


Doing It Right

by LunaMirakoschka



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Anger, Angst, Baby, F/M, Pregnant, Sex, Sexual Content, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-31
Updated: 2017-06-09
Packaged: 2018-05-17 09:55:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 44
Words: 53,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5864767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LunaMirakoschka/pseuds/LunaMirakoschka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being a Dixon ain't easy. But you can try and do it right.<br/>A glimpse of how Daryl might have lived his life before the dead started walking.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"Whatcha doin' here?" He belted at the woman sitting on the more than worn cushions of the sad excuse of a sofa in the middle of yet another mobile home the Dixon brothers had laid claim to.  
Daryl stood frozen in place at the front door, knob still in hands, after returning from his job at the local garage.  
His brother was leaning against the kitchen counter, arms crossed and frowning.  
Daryl couldn't help but notice the glass of water standing on the scarred table in front of the blonde. Was his brother keeping up with his duties as a host nowadays? And for what? He could have laid that woman with far less effort if he had wanted. Daryl was speaking from experience as far as this shady lady was concerned. Maybe that was why he was so pissed, he just couldn't handle his brother fucking women he had fucked before. He'd never done this himself vice versa. He thought it was kinda creepy to put his dick where his brothers' had been before. Not to mention the avoidance of any sexual diseases Merle was undoubtedly able to pass on. Just that very morning Daryl had pushed aside a stash of antibiotics while searching the dining table for cigarettes before leaving for work.  
But his brother remained silent, as did the girl whom he recognized as Chrissie.  
Now Daryl was the one to frown, for his brother keeping his mouth shut was quite exceptional behaviour.  
"We need to talk" Chrissie now said silently, her voice barely above a whisper.  
"And what about?" Daryl snarled at her, considering seriously to turn on his heel and rather spend the evening in a dingy bar than to undergo more of this freakshow.  
"Sit down, baby brother, and shut the fuck up, ya hear me!" Merle now stepped in.  
"The fuck I will!" Daryl hissed back, but now calmer than before. He usually did obey what Merle was sayin', so this was an undoubtful sign of an upcoming storm. Little did these people know that his day was just proceeding from bad to worse. Having had a big arguement with his boss about how many hours he'd worked that week despite having a time clock and therefore probably gettin' paid less (too little to provide for the installments he had to pay after being sentenced for beating the shit out of a overly-friendly Officer on an evening he couldn't even recall AND food on the table), the nearly empty tank of his beat-up blue truck and now this declaration of his brother to have laid claim to a woman despite any rights he had had earlier.  
Jesus Christ. There must be someone looking from above, he thought, but certainly not to protect, but to laugh their asses off at the sight of the younger Dixon-Brother struggling (and failing) over and over again to try and do it right.  
"You know what? I'm leaving. Rather get shit-faced than watch you two hooking up. Don't wanna be in the way." Not that he cared too much about this particular woman, he was just pissed in general.  
He didn't remember too much of the night they spent together some weeks ago. Meeting not at a bar but at a bonfire and taking her home afterwards. She'd worn too much make-up and too little fabric, but that matched most of the women from where he came from.  
She'd sucked his dick quite good before he had grabbed her hips and literally fucked her like he'd never see her again. Which had been the plan, up to now. She'd been a tight piece of pussy, he remembered, and at least 5 years younger than him.  
"Daryl motherfucking Dixon, you sit your goddam sorry ass DOWN NOW!" His brother suddenly belted out in a volume that made him nearly jump. Nearly- there gotta be worse things to make a Dixon jump.  
But it was enough for him to obey.  
He sat at the edge of the old recliner, finally giving in.  
"So what's going on? Santa Clause comin' o' what?" He asked resigned.  
"This little lady gotta tell ya sumthin', baby brother." Merle replied  
"Ain't I'm curious..." Daryl said with raised eyebrows, now meeting the gaze of the blonde. She looked at him with big blue eyes, dark and deep like the Ocean. Not that Daryl had ever seen the Ocean.  
He could tell she'd must have cried before, her eyes were red and her face was in complete lack of any make-up. She looked so much younger than he remembered.  
"Daryl, do you remember the night we... spent together...? After the bonfire?"  
She now raised her voice timidly.  
He scoffed "Not in detail, to be honest, but I guess I know what you're talking about." He growled while he slowly became uncomfortable. He fidgeded the crumpled pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket and lit himself one of them up.  
He didn't bother to offer one of them to either the girl or his brother and shoved 'em back where they came from. Should they get their own smokes, he didn't care.  
"Hey girl, ya ain't tellin' me you're illegal, right? Or you got what? The clap or sumthin'? How old are you? Your old man gonna sue me or what?"  
-"No, I'm not... neither of it. I'm nineteen by the way."  
Great, Daryl thought to himself. Legal, at least. But that's not what he'd expected. If she'd been underage he'd been much more likely to have faced her father with a shotgun in hands. This had happened once to Merle, and wasn't funny in the slightest.  
She faced him again after shortly averting her gaze;  
"Daryl, I am pregnant."  
Silence filled the room, while Daryl stared at her blankely, then narrowed his eyes and stomped out his cigarette to the mere surface of the couchtable, making her glass of water, and whatever trash was piled up beneath, jump.  
"Yeah, sure!" He belted, making the woman cower down to the cushions.  
He stood up, dangerously towering her, now growling  
"you gotta be kiddin' me! Ya really think I'm that stupid?! How many doors you've tried before, huh? Think ya can append me a child? And for what? Huh? Child support? There's surely at least five more daddys out there, I bet!"  
Chrissies eyes had yet overpooled by his harsh words and tears ran down her cheeks, but she still faced him, silently.  
"Fuck you! Go fuck yourself! Try a guy that's either rich or stupid. You're at the very wrong door, believe me!" He shouted at her, angrily waving his arm towards the door; "Out with you! Now! Don'tcha ever dare to show up here again! I'm done with this shit!" His husky voice had gotten louder and louder during his last words, and with his last, he slammed his fist into the wall next to the front door he had approached during his speech, leaving a crack in the cheap wood.  
"Fuck off! 'Hell with all'ya!" He yelled and turned for the door while checking his pockets for keys and smokes. He stormed out and slammed the door shut while stomping down the gravel walkway towards his truck. As he had approached it, he changed his mind, wouldn't get far with as little fuel was left anyway. So he picked his crossbow and sleeping bag from the backseat and headed down the street.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2 

Daryl was walking down the street aimlessly. His thoughts were swirling with all the shit he'd been thrown at during these last ten minutes.   
He lit up another cigarette and inhaled deeply. This simply couldn't be. This couldn't happen to him. He hardly ever hooked up with a woman, the Dixon reputation preceded him in most places and he was just fine with it.   
This was some kind of shit to happen to his brother, making him do some extra drug-run or something to pay that bitch some hundred dollars to get rid of ... whatever you'd call the result of another drunken, unprotected and therefore irresponsible act.   
Daryl sometimes wondered if Merle was aware of the fact that nothing else had lead to his own being on earth 36 years ago. But anyhow, what different could he say 'bout himself? Should he be somewhat proud of the fact that he was, in contrast to his brother, born into an existing marriage? One that his brother had caused in the first place, he remembered. So no, not really. Eventually he came to the conclusion that after the unplanned birth of his brother back in the day, their parents had at least managed to keep focus on birth control for nearly 10 years. Or had been lucky gamblers. He couldn't answer the question or if he was grateful for that. Or should be.   
Whatever- this Chrissie simply wasn't his problem. He barely knew her, she was just one of these party-girls. Maybe she was just some kind of gold-digger, too. Being probably not even pregnant, but trying to gather in money from all her latest hookups.   
Daryl was out of options. He had absolutely no idea what to do. Or what to believe.   
The thing he knew for sure was: the air was a little too chilly to stay outside for the night comfortabely and he had no money left even for one shitty beer at the bar. So he slowly made his way back to the trailer his brother and him called home. Sneeking from behind through the backyard- or rather the front yard of the neighbouring trailer, he peeked through the window. Relieved the woman obviously was gone, he approached the front door.   
He unlocked the door slowly and took a step inside. His brother sat in the old recliner, cigarette in one and beer in the other hand, legs apart. Daryl was reminded instantly to their father, with the difference that he wouldn't have to fear his rage as soon as he'd closed the door. Or would he? Merle eyed him with furrowed brows. 

"Ya're stupid piece of shit, baby brother. Always were and always will." He simply stated.   
"Fuck you Merle! Go mind 'ya own business!" Daryl spat back while putting his sleeping bag and crossbow down.   
Merle seemed to relax a bit and chuckled. "Sit down." he ordered.   
Daryl ignored him and with a sigh turned to the kitchen and got himself a can of beer from the fridge. One of two things ever present inside, the other being light.   
He then went back and plopped to the couch, making the old piece of furniture ache in protest.   
"D'ya know that girl?" his brother got to the topic straight.  
"Can't say I know her, at least not better than half of the men in town." Daryl replied gruffy.   
"Ain't that easy though, Darleena. Should've kept your facts straight bevore hooking up with'er." Daryl cocked an eyebrow. "Ya don't know who she is, do ya?" - "Can't say I do, can't say I give a fuck either." Daryl shook his head while lying back to the cushions.   
"Her name's Clearwater. Bells 'a ringing?"  
"Huh? Clearwater? Like in Clearwater Inc.?" Daryl raised his gaze confused.   
"Yeah dummie! Like the motherfucking daughter of the motherfucking man that owns more than half of this motherfucking town. This motherfucking trailer even. Headshot, little brother."   
"Jesus motherfucking Christ...!" Daryl's jaw dropped.   
"That's one good way to put it." Merle gave back. "This ain't one of these bitches you give a few Franklin's and they're gone. This little lady's an upright one. And through her daddy she's got prolly' mo' power than she's even aware of. Hopefully at least."  
"So now what? Either rich or poor, how she'd proof that damn bun is mine?"   
Daryl winced at the sound of his brother bursting into roaring laughter.  
"Ya stupid piece of shit! For what other reason would a normal woman that's not completely outta her mind choose a prick like yours for the father of her child, unless it's true and she's stupid enough to admit it!"


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Fuck it. Damn it. His brother was right.   
He felt the overwhealming urge to run. Far.   
Panic flickered in his eyes when he faced his brother "Merle... what can I do? I don't know what to do."   
Usually, there was always a way. No money? No food? No housing? No problem, as long as you had a brother. It had always been just Merle and him, nearly as long as he could remember.   
He vaguely recalled a time when their mother was still alive. He could tell she'd loved them both. 'Hell with that!   
"Y'gotta call her, baby brother." Merle now said. "she left her number. Told her you weren't like that, usually. Pro'lly had a hard day'n shit. Y'gotta find out what she wants eventually. Maybe only wants your financial parttaking in the abortion though." Daryl scoffed at Merles unknown political skills but had to admit they weren't that bad. "Hmmm..." he gave back but reached for the phone. "What do I say?" he weighted his options. "Or shall I go over to her place?" - "wouldn't be bad, too, but I'd suggest you take a shower first, dontcha?" Merle raised an eyebrow.   
Daryl looked down at him and had to agree. He was incredibly dirty. He shoved a hand through his shaggy hair. He felt greasy from head to toe. "Yah, I guess." He rose from the couch and headed to his room. None of his clothes seemed to be adequate to the conversation he was about to have. He owned two jeans only, one with a hole in the knee, one with stains in it that wouldn't go away. He opted for the ripped one, for at least it was clean. Going through the shirts in the drawers of the dresser that had seen its better days, he tore out a plain black one and headed for the bathroom. He was finished quickly, not bothering about hairstyling and stuff, and went back to the livingroom. "I need ya' bike." He told Merle. "truck's outta gas." - "Jesus, Daryl, hope she won't keep that brat. Y'can barely keep alive yourself." Merle replied but tossed him the keys of his beloved bike. At any other occassion than that Daryl's request would have led to an awkward discussion. The fact Merle just had him the keys now made Daryl even more anxious. He stopped in his tracks. "Should I call before?" He thought aloud. "Hmmm... maybe not that bad. Should be a little emotional over there right now, I guess.", Merle agreed.   
With shaking fingers Daryl dialed the barely readable number the girl must have scribbeled down while still crying. At the second ring he heard someone pick up the phone and a male voice said "Hello?"   
Daryl cleared his throat.   
"Ahm... this is Daryl... Daryl Dixon. May I talk to Chrissie Clearwater, please, Sir?" The line remained silent for a moment and Daryl was wondering if the connection had ripped, when the man replied "So you really have the guts to call here after all you've done?" Daryl closed his eyes and swallowed hard. "Sir? Uhm... I know... I'm sorry... I don't know. Maybe Chrissie wants... to call me back?" He tried to postpone the embarrassing conversation and hoped he could finish the talk earlier than expected. "Hold on please." The man now said. Daryl heard footsteps and muffled voices as someone, likely the man, was holding one hand over the speaker. He wondered if this was Chrissies father. And what was her real name anyhow. Christine maybe?   
There was a crackling in the line, then he heard a female voice "Hello?" - "Hey... hi. This is Daryl. Is this Chrissie?" He asked uncomfortably. "Yes." Chrissie gave back with tearful voice. "I... uhm... guess we need to ... talk? Sorry 'bout before. Had quite a fucking... uhm... hard day."   
"...'s okay" he heard her say and could tell her response was only owed to her good manners. "Should I ... come by? To talk?" he heard himself say, though there was hardly anything he wanted to avoid more at that very moment. "Wait a moment please." Chrissie replied. Obviously she didn't put her hand over the receiver when she fowarded that very same question to the other people sitting with her in the room. Daryl could hear a woman yelp and some distant male voice in an apparently angry tone. "Yes, could you please come over?" Chrissie finally answered. She gave him the address he already knew -everybody in town knew the Clearwater's residence- and Daryl hung up the receiver. He was shaking head to toe and pale enough to have Merle worry he'd faint the moment he'd try and stand up. "Hey man! Straighten up! Up side is, there's nothing you can do wrong from now on. Fucked up already. And knocked up, too." Merle never knew when to keep it. "Shut the fuck up." Daryl replied weakly but finally stood up.   
He lit a cigarette and went for the door where he grabbed his leather jacket. Once outside he glanced up to the stars and wondered if his life had been any different with his mother still being around. And what she'd think of him now. He felt so ashamed. He'd messed up so bad. He'd done a lot of things he wasn't proud of, but this had reached a completely new level, even to him. He usually didn't even masturbate. Was never one for that whole sex thing. Meant only trubble. Proven by now.   
A few more drags and he stomped his cigarette and headed for his brother's bike. The one with the nazi symbol on it. Great. Daryl rubbed his calloused hands over his face and started up the engine. A short ride, too short for his liking, and a pair of railroad tracks later, he decided to park the bike at a junction and not to show up with the deafening sound and looks of a badass biker.   
Daryl stepped up to the nice, clean two-story-building and took a deep breath. The moment he reached for the bell, the door opened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please feel free to leave your comments!  
> As this is my first fanfiction ever, they will be highly appreciated!


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

A man faced him, likely his own age. Dressed in some dark jeans and a white button-up shirt, hair nicely combed.  
"Are you Daryl Dixon?" he asked.   
Daryl resisted the temptation to ask how many other men were expected that evening and simply stated "Yeah."  
"Please come in, then. My name's Charles, I'm Christine's brother." Good, so Christine was her full name. And her parents obviously had a preference for... whatever it was called to use the same letter for the first name as being in the last. Should've kept better attention at school. But not only in English lessions, Daryl thought to himself. No need for that shit anyway.   
Charles walked him through a big hall were Daryl instantly felt misplaced and led him to a Sweet-Home livingroom. Chrissie and a middle-aged woman that had to be her mother were sitting in armchairs while two more men had rosen from a flower-patterned couch. One had to be the father while the other was quite young, rather a boy than a man. All of the people in the room were nicely dressed. All of them mustered him intensely. And all of them were looking goddamm serious. Daryl just stood and didn't know what to do. Shake hands? What did they expect? Despite his 26 years of age he had never entered a room where some more than a nod and a grunt was needed to introduce himself.   
Mr Clearwater finally made a step towards him and extended his hand. "William Clearwater. Nice to meet you at last." Daryl shook his hand and repeated his own name. Mr Clearwater seemed to have regained his composure compared to the phonecall earlier. Daryl wondered why manners always meant to lie at each other? There was sure as hell nothing nice in their acquaintance. Will Clearwater. Great. Same first name as his own old man. He got introduced to Mrs Clearwater who seemed to sniff a little while being near him (pro'lly didn't like smoke) and the younger brother Christopher (there it was again, that first-letter-thing). As Daryl didn't know what'd be appropriate, he only nodded towards Chrissie and then took a seat at a separate chair that had been drawn over from the dining-table. "Please feel free to sit." Mr Clearwater said after Daryl had already sat down. Should have waited to get the permission? He felt some anger rise in his throat, swallowed it down, but purposely sat as broad-legged as he always used to. Should they think what they evidently already did.   
"So... Daryl. May I call you Daryl?" Mr Clearwater started.   
"That's mah name." Daryl replied, fully aware of the fact that neither one in the room ever seriously contemplated to calling him Mr Dixon.   
Mr Clearwater wasn't to be ruffled though. "Allright then. So is it true what my daughter told me about the two of you?"  
Daryl looked over to Chrissie confused but she averted his gaze. "Don't know what she told you, but all I know myself's that there's two blue stripes where better only be one."   
Chrissies mother yelped at his expression and Daryl couldn't help but wonder if yelping was rich-bitch-replacement for cursing. Goddammit.   
Christopher only looked with puppy-eyes while Charles and Chrissie kept their heads down. "That's an interesting way to say it, Daryl." Mr Clearwater continnued unimpressed. Daryl wasn't educated much, but that far he knew, that 'interesting' meant nothing more than 'lowlife', at least in the opinion of this man.   
"As far as I know you two have known each other for some time and had a little date at that bonfire two months ago?" Nonetheless he tried to save the appearance and extended him the proverbial hand to cling to.   
Daryl couldn't help but scoff. "Yeaah... quite like it, I guess." He said with a tone that didn't cover up what he really thought. And what was the fucking truth.   
Chrissies head shot up with wide eyes. This seemingly wasn't what she had planned on. Her mother gave her a suspicious look, then faced Daryl. "So... how long have you been dating then for real?" She asked Daryl with barely suppressed anger in her voice. "To be honest, not at all. We met at the bonfire, drank some and ... well spent the night at my place. Obviously."   
Truth was, he had been sitting on the bed of his truck, smoking and being already slightly drunk with beer when that girl had stumbeled over and gave him what he assumed must've been the attempt of a sexy smile.   
He had noticed her and her friends before. They were real chicks, styled too much and too expensive for a simple bonfire. Had been checking on the guys for some time. Little did they know that Daryl had noticed them long before. He was used to always keep an open eye. He had learned from an early age that distrust could be very useful. Merle had already sacrificed for the ugliest one of these girls and they had disappeared some time earlier. Daryl was fine with that. Meant to him he could simple lay back and relax without bothering Merle getting too drunk and therefore getting involved in a fight that Daryl had to help him out. Most of Daryl's black eyes were owed to fights his brother had started in the first place. Unfortunately that's not what people saw. They just saw another redneck with a bruise from a drunken fight in a lowlife bar. Merle seemed to kinda enjoy that. Despite he wasn't as uneducated and dumb as he seemed, always having a book of some kind lying on his nightstand, he had adapted to the life their parents had born them into. Daryl had even seen him hide that very book before he took his latest "girlfriend" to his room.   
At that very moment however, there was this girl smiling up at him, and for no particular reason he didn't reject her but gave back a half-cocked smile and drawled in best Merle-Dixon-Manner "Hey little Miss Sugar, why dontcha come'n join me 'little bit?"   
And she did.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

The tension in the room was almost palpable.  
"Christine, I want some explanation. NOW!" Mrs Clearwater demanded in a cold and threatening voice.  
"I want to know why you lied to us, went to that bonfire without permission. I want to know why you drink alcohol at your age. And for goodness sake I WANT TO KNOW THE HELL how come my only daughter spreads her legs for the the first running-up scum waving at her from a goddamm trailer and without any protection! I mean, just LOOK AT HIM!" Jumping from his seat Daryl yelled "Hey! WHOW! What the fuck?!" What little manners he possesed flew out of the proverbial window. "That bitch sneaked up ON ME! It's not my fault if she's crawling at me like a spider and offering me a good times! Look at me 'n what? I'm prolly cleaner than that brat o' yours!"  
And then he blinked. What did her mother just say? But he couldn't put a finger on it as suddenly Charlie's fist hit his cheekbone without warning. He stumbeled but remained standing, and within seconds he had taken the man down. Daryl had gotten his degrees by life and not on the papers of some damn college.  
"Dontcha ever try this shit again ya hear!" He growled beneath gritted teeth. Breathing heavily he towered Chrissie's brother, who was holding the side of his face, fist still raised. But he backed off. Charlie was down, Daryl had won. He wasn't the one to hit a guy already lying in the dirt. Or rather some sort of luxury carpet, in that case.  
He was being pulled back by Mr Clearwater and Christopher now but brushed off both. " 'Hell with all'ya! Better ask her 'bout how many other daddys' out there!" His deep southern drawl made him nearly incomprehensible. "I'm leaving! And dontcha think Imma pay for that bastard!" He turned to leave when he heard Mr Clearwater's voice. "If you're leaving now, I'm gonna sue you."  
"And for what, Mister?" Daryl ranted back. Then there it was. He finally got hold of it. Permission. Her mother had used the word permission. He spinned around and stood face to face with one of the most influential men in town. "How old is she?" He asked with a dangerously calm voice, low and raspy. William Clearwater withstood Daryl's stare easily. He already hated the boy in front of him from the deepest ground of his heart. "She is nothing but seventeen. And with that I'll get you to jail, I promise."  
Daryl was spinning around looking for Chrissie. There she stood, in the doorway to what must have been the dining-room, looking at him with big eyes and instantly averting her gaze with guilt.  
He was fucked up. "Jesus Christ." Was all he could say.  
Why him? How could he've been so stupid and pick that woman up? Girl, that is, he corrected himself.  
He narrowed his eyes at her and seriously considered for a moment to slap her face, and hard. She must have seen the expression on his face as her eyes widened in shock. But he turned on the heel of his old working-boots and went for the door. "What are you doing?" He heard William Clearwater say. Not too loud. He clearly wasn't used to shout at people for having them obey him.  
"Having a smoke. Or a bullet in the head. Haven't made up my mind yet." Daryl spat out in the opposite direction. He went out of the door to the big porch and didn't bother to sit in a chair but went to the farthest spot and remained standing. With hands shaking worse than his father's at withdrawal he tried to get one of the Morley's out of the pack. He nearly wasn't able to grip it first and even dropped his Zippo before finally being able to light the cigarette. He had no options, did he? How far would he get with a fake ID? Just running would get him nowhere. He heard about prisons from first-hand experience. Only that his brother wasn't one to be fucked. He'd never asked him what of these stories was true and he wasn't willing to find out. He finally took a seat at the sidestairs leading to a now dark garden und rested up his elbows to his knees.  
Was he a rapist? Did this make him a rapist? What were the charges for having sex with an underage girl? After a quick glance towards the sky he simply shook his head. Why him?  
Because you're a stupid piece of scum, that's why, he heard his father's voice in his head. But at least my child won't go hungry like yours', he told the slurry voice. Yeah, but that won't be on you, the voice gave back. No. He shook his head. He knew it was the truth. Even if he was able to keep his job now, which he highly doubted as surely even "Peletier's Garage" had some kind of connection to the Clearwater family, it would never be enough to pay child support additionaly to his installments and the rent, even if he'd eat whitebread every day. Which he did often enough, anyway.  
But then Daryl's head shot up. She wouldn't keep it, would she? They hadn't talked about that at all. Or at least she would give it up for adoption. Jesus, she was seventeen! What would she do with a child. A redneck child, he added. So he would probably only have to pay for some medical expenses. A few hundred, a few thousand dollars maybe, but nothing he couldn't work off afterwards. A new job in a new town maybe. And never, never, ever have sex again. Unprotected. Why in heavens did he do that? Then another thing came to his mind: Had she been a virgin? He hoped for her she hadn't been, for he was surely none to cuddle, twice as little while being as drunk as then. He just couldn't remember. He stood up and stomped out the butt of the cigarette with his boot, then turned around. He found Christopher stand at the opposite side of the porch, watching him. Did they send him after him? How old was that boy? If Chrissie was 17 (fuck, fuck, fuck it!!!) he couldn't be any oder than 15 or 16. Daryl stared him down while walking towards him. "What are you going to do?" Christopher asked him when he was close. "Suicide might be an option." Daryl replied and went in.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Daryl went back to the livingroom and leaned at the doorframe, hands in his pockets. Taking the right one out again shortly he glanced at the knuckles that were hurting from their meetup with Charlie's face just minutes before.  
He just stood there and waited. Chrissie and her mom didn't make an appearance, Christopher was being sent to his room as far as Daryl captured without turning around. Still not moving Daryl waited for the two Clearwater-Men to go round him and take a seat.  
"Please sit down." Will nodded towards Daryl. With no expression on his face Daryl went to his former chair. 

Mr Clearwater pinched the bridge of his nose, then faced him. Daryl stared back, holding the gaze.  
"Daryl, I think our start wasn't the best. Maybe we could start over at some point?"  
Daryl scoffed.  
"Just tell me what to do. She ain't gonn' keep it, is she? What are the expenses? The charges? Ya know, I damn well know when I'm fucked up. I surrender. Send me to jail? Fine, I can't do anything about it no how."  
Charlie now was the one to scoff. Daryl couldn't help but notice the bruise on his cheekbone. He had gotten him good. Daryl raised a hand to his own cheek and felt it was okay. It would show later, but nothing too bad. If you were growing up a Dixon, most things weren't too bad.  
"So what do you expect?" Charlie leaned back in his own chair that had been brought over in the meanwhile, while his father had yet to take a seat, holding at the rest of a third chair.  
"I ain't expecting nothing!" Daryl leaned forward, propping his hands on his knees.  
"Your girl ran off, wanted some fun and found it. Was my fault not to check on her ID. Was my fault to believe her when she said she was on the pill. Was my fault to believe she was as old as she looked.  
So tell me how to get outta this." He waved his hand towards the door in an angry manner.  
"First of all, Daryl, I have to tell you that 'outta this' is nothing you can count on. We are a good catholic family." -by that words Daryl slapped his hand to his forehead. - "Of course my daughter will keep her baby. And, you will contribute just like you are supposed to."  
"Okay, listen to me, Mister. I will do shit and I give a fuck. Got that so far? There's no proof that damn bun is mine. If you can give proof, I will have to pay, though I don't know how. I've no idea where I can get few hundred dollars each month for child support. If you wanna sue me, just do. Lemme go to jail for something I couldn't even know. But that's the law, right? Anyhow, I will not play daddy, you got that?" And with that he stood up and left without saying another word.  
He slammed the front door, stormed down the stairs and nearly ran down the street towards his motorcycle. Once he'd reached it, he sat in the grass next to it, buried his head in his hands and breathed heavily.  
No way. He gave a fuck about that woman, that girl she actually was. Maybe he could get a second job. If he had to pay, he had to pay. Maybe he could even gather one or another spare Dollar for himself. But he would not play daddy. He never planned on having children, never even thought about it. No child on earth deserved a Dixon for its father. The Dixon bloodline was better to be dying out. Nothing good ever came from it. He knew it every day, and that very day in particular.  
He wouldn't hold someone's hand during labor, he wouldn't hold a newborn. He wouldn't get torn outta sleep at nights, and for fucking sure he wouldn't let his kid be judged for whom its father was.  
He wanted some Whiskey and a cigarette. Maybe Merle even got some weed.  
He climbed onto the bike and headed for home.  
Merle already waited for him at the door as he'd heard the bike's engine.  
"So how it went, baby brother?" He asked with a scowl. He could tell by the look on Daryl's face that something had gone terribly wrong.  
Without a word Daryl stomped by and grabbed the half-empty can of beer he'd left on the couchtable earlier. He gulped it down at once, then crushed it in his fist and slammed it to the wall.  
"Hey man, hold ya' horses! What happened?" Merle stepped up.  
"Fuck it, Merle! That goddamn bitch is nothing but seventeen and I am fucked up!  
Of course she gonna keep it. A good catholic family they are. Gotta contribute they say. Her old man gonna sue me for fucking his underage whore daughter.  
Pro'lly gonna loose mah' job tomorrow.  
Anything else? I don't think so. I don't hope so."  
Merle was speechless. Which made Daryl even more furious. He spun around and focused his wide-eyed brother.  
"There's something you wanna tell me?" he spat at him.  
"Don't think so." Merle replied. Then he chuckled. Chucked even more, which had Daryl dangerously close to the edge. "Why the fuck are you laughing at me, dumbass?" - "Because I just can't believe this happened to you! Of all people! Was afraid you'd be a fag even! Never did nothing with a lady! Was so sure I'd be the daddy first, willingly or not."  
He honestly didn't care that she was underage (their own mother had been the same age by the time he was born) but shortly thought about how he could get his fair share of the chick now. Would remain in the family, so to say. And would be without any risk for himself. But he'd better keep that to himself, at least for now.  
"I ain't gonn' be no goddamn daddy! Never wanted and never will! Shut it Merle!" Daryl spat at him.  
"Aaaah c'mon baby brother! I still got some 'shine over here. Let's wash it while we can!"  
And they did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So.... Unfortunately I still didn't get any comments on my work... Maybe time to get it started? Please don't be too harsh, for this is my first fic ever ;-)


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Daryl was torn off his sleep by heavy knocks at the front door.   
"Police! Open the door!"  
Still half asleep and clearly hungover Daryl stumbled to the door. "Jesus, keep ya pants on..." he murmured still more drunk than sober. He'd barely opened the door when he was pushed aside and found himself chokeheld on the floor. "What the FUCK?!" he yelled, or at least tried while his throat was strangled. Meanwhile Merle had come by and also yelled "What the fuck! Chokeholding is illegal! Best let him go!" But he only earned a cold glare from whom he recognized as Deputy Shane Walsh.  
"Yeah you can file a complaint." The Officer gave back, and added "One brother like the other, why ain't I surprised. Always knew it'd be just a matter of time 'till I'd get number two."  
In the meanwhile Daryl had gotten sick and started to gulp, and before Deputy Walsh knew it he had puked all over his arm and on himself. Shane finally let go, cursing at Daryl who now collapsed to the floor. The second Officer who up to now had only stood by at gunpoint spoke up.

"Shane! Enough! Back off!" Deputy Walsh obeyed instantly, there was no doubt who was in charge here. He took a step back and glared at his arm in disgust.   
"What's going on here?" Merle addressed the second Officer hoarsely. Shortly checking the surroundings the man put back his colt to its holster but remained it unlocked, clearly cautious of the situation, then straightened up and faced him. "I'm Deputy Rick Grimes. We're here today to arrest your brother for rape of a minor."   
"You must be kiddin' me!" Merle spat out.   
"I'm afraid but that's what the record says. We have to take him with us for this is a serious crime. He'll probably stay arrested until the hearing, maybe even the trial. You wanna pack some things up for him?"   
Merle was speechless once again. "Yeah, sure." he replied and after a short look at his brother who was obviuosly passed out cold on the floor, he went to Daryl's room to gather some of his little belongings. He shoved some clothes in his old dufflebag, then went to the bathroom for toothbrush and stuff and after shortly stopping in his tracks he went to his own room to add one last piece. As he came back to the livingroom Daryl was just about to regain consciousness.   
Merle eyed him over and quickly took off his own shirt to replace Daryl's soiled one.   
Daryl let everything happen to him seemingly undismayed. Merle kneeled in front of him.   
He looked intensely at his little brother and told him firmy "Imma get you outta there, ya hear? You done nothing wrong! They gonna let you go home soon."   
Daryl weakly tried to pick up his big brothers gaze and gave him a half smile. His big brother who'd always protected him. Who took his share of beatings from their father often enough. Provided for food on his table when their parents hadn't been able for one reason or another.  
This time he couldn't help him. This time it was different.   
"Ya know ain't like this, do ya?" He slurred while his brother pulled him up.   
"Just behave, okay? Imma come over as soon as they lemme." Merle slowly let off his grip, fearing Daryl would collapse again, but he didn't.   
Officer Grimes took hold of his upper arm and led him to the car. Exiting the house, he nodded briefly towards Merle while Officer Walsh picked the dufflebag from Merle with a nasty smile. Merle flipped him the finger in return, aware of the fact that Officer Rick had his back to them. Shane only scoffed and followed the uneven pair down to the policecar.   
It was that moment only when Merle realized half of the neighborhood was standing at their porches watching the early show. The other half probably still was sobering up, he thought. He wondered what time it was actually or which day even. He looked after his brother who was being shoved in the backseat with lowered head and watched them leave. He'd have to wait some hours before showing up at the Police Station, hoping his brother would do good and not get himself in more trouble than he already had. This wasn't Daryl's first visit at the Cop's but surely the first to be about himself only and not about being interrogated about somebody or being involved unwanted in some shit Merle had started in the first place.   
He hoped his nearly blank file would get him some advantage.   
"What?" He yelled at the still staring neighbors "Dixon gettin' arrested! Big new show, huh?!" And with that he turned and went back inside, cursing lightly. After cleaning up what his brother had left on the floor and having himself some coffee he went back to bed. It was about 7am now and the sun was rising slowly. The trailer felt awkwardly empty with his brother gone, Merle couldn't help but notice. He wondered if Daryl ever felt the same when Merle was picked up again.  
He streched onto his bed and looked the book lying on his nightstand. It read "Treating Survivors Of Childhood Abuse" and was stolen from the library down the street. He remembered Daryl glare at it suspiciously and then shaking his head. Daryl was one to put things away. Merle was one to tidy up. Daryl being so much like their mother sometimes made Merle anxiuos to become like his father in the opposite. His father or their. He wasn't really sure. Their mother had been vanished for some time before returning home and telling him she was pregnant again shortly after. She was 27 then and beautiful as hell. Black hair, blue eyes. How did that piece of heaven ever get to be with Will Dixon for goodness sake, he wondered over and over again.   
He made a mental note to ask his father about Daryl's birth if he'd ever got to meet him again.   
But now he gathered up and went in search for the cordless phone.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

"Hello? Mah name's Dixon... uhm... mah brother got arrested earlier today. Wanted to know if there's visit possible yet? ... Yes, Dixon. Daryl Dixon. Born November 15th,1970."  
Merle sternly listened to his opponent on the other side of the phone. "Okay... A'ight. I get that. Bye." He pressed the red button on the phone and tossed it to the cushions next to him. With a sigh he lay back for a second and arched his back while rubbing his palms over his face. Then he shook his head, still in disbelief and stood up.  
His little brother had always been... smart, upright... distant and cautious. Merle had seriously wondered if he was gay. Daryl never let another person even touch him. And there he went, fucking an underage whore without even thinking about consequences. For a moment he wished his brother to be gay. He'd have to beat the shit outta him, but at least he wouldn't have attracted the anger of a man like William Clearwater. There would be a way, he repeated in his head over and over again. He couldn't remember a day he'd been so anxiuos about loosing a loved one. To be honest, there was no other person on that whole planet he loved, besides his baby brother. He'd held his mommas clammy hand during labor, feeling deep inside how dangerous the situation was. Years later he realized that both his momma and his brother nearly died in the process. But going to a hospital hadn't been an option without a health insurance. And after nearly 12 hours of pain, sweat and her fingernails dug in the skin of Merle's arm, he'd been there. Ugly and crying. But Daryl.  
Merle shook off the memory. After getting dressed quickly he went for his bike and soon after arrived at the Police Department.  
A woman who despite her young age already spotted strains of grey in her short hair sat at the reception desk and eyed him warily. She asked if she could help him, though her voice didn't hide that that was probably the last thing she wanted to.  
"Yeah... Mah brother got arrested. Wanna visit him." Merle repeated what he'd told the guy in the phone earlier that day.  
"And for what?" The woman asked while typing the information in her computer. Merle wondered if this was usual proceeding and hesitated before he uncomfortably cleared his throat and replied "rape."  
The woman whose name tag read "C. Peletier" raised her eyebrows but otherwise remained unimpressed. "You can take a seat over there, Mr Dixon. You will be called."  
Merle nodded and did like he was told.  
So he had gotten two birds with one stone. He would be damned if this lady wasn't the wife of Ed Peletier and therefore was granted the old bastard would be informed Daryl wouldn't make it for work the next day.  
At the waiting area there were several magazines, some about hunting and cars, and to keep up appearance, he picked one about hunting, though the latest Time Magazine issue seemed more to his liking.  
About half an hour later -though he had expected to be ignored much longer- he was called to a separated office with no windows in it. Daryl was sitting on a chair, his hands tied with handcuffs. Merle's heart clenched at his sight. He was extremely pale, his hair was a mess and his eyes were red. One of his cheeks showed the undeniably signs of a hit not too long ago, while the other spotted the bruise he brought home the evening before. Merle had his suspicions where that second one came from but wisely kept it to himself.  
Officer Grimes welcomed him with a nod and asked him to take a seat while he remained standing at the desk. Merle was fully aware of the fact that his brother must have had a complete body-checkup yet and all the humiliations that came with it, so he stayed at armlenght to keep him from having it once again.  
Rick took a step back to show he meant no harm, though it was his duty to overhear and watch the brothers' exchange.  
"So what they say?" Merle asked Daryl.  
"Chrissie's father has filed charges against me. Chrissie won't be heard until she had a official medical checkup, though I truly doubt she'll say the truth. Don't know if it would make any difference, either."  
"Don't you have any witnesses for that evening? Anybody?" Merle began to panic.  
"What if?" Daryl replied. "Even if somebody saw us at the bonfire, it's no proof everything afterwards went mutual. Besides, nobody would believe me. It's hers and the word of her father against mine. Or ya mean that ginger o'yours? Won't come out good for her reputation if she'd had to admit being there. They will lock me away. Merle what will I do? I don't know what to do!" And he cried, tears streaming down his face. He tried to avert his gaze in shame and lifted his tied hands to cover his face. Shame for what he did, but also shame for crying in front of his older brother.  
Merle felt so awkwardly helpless. Daryl never cried. Well, hardly ever. Last time he'd seen him cry was when he tried to clean and take care of the wounds on Merle's back after what must have been one of Will Dixon's worst outbursts.  
"Baby brother, don't! Please don't!" Merle rubbed his hands over the scruff on his cheeks hard. He turned his face towards Rick "Hey Officer! Has my brother ANY chance of a fair trial?"- "Well, if he did was the file says ..." Daryl interrupted him "She said she was 19 goddamnit! Said she was on the pill! How should I know? It was a fucking trap! Did nothing she didn't want me to!"  
"Well, it's not on me to judge, honestly. Is all I can say." Rick gave back, though he somehow got the notion the Dixon was telling the truth. "Do you have an attorney yet?"  
Merle nearly yelled "How would he? Look like some rich prick to ya?!"  
"Allright. Call Andrea Harrison. She's the best public defender I know. I'll give you her card. But we gotta go now." Merle nodded, and stood up. "Where they take him to?" He asked. "Telfair State Prison. But the hearing is probably next week already. You will be informed about the details. Have you signed the papers yet? Are you his closest family member or are there others to be informed?" Rick asked towards Daryl. He shook his head. "Nobody." He said barely audible.  
"Allright then."  
And they left the room, Merle first, then Daryl and Rick. "Will you call my boss? There's still seven hours unpaid." Daryl suddenly remembered. "Yeah, sure. Whatever there is, baby brother." They shortly said goodbye, then Merle went to sign the papers and Daryl was brought back to his cell. He felt utterly exhausted. The last two days finally were taking their toll on him.  
He turned to unpack his dufflebag that had been double checked before been brought to his cell about one hour ago. Merle had collected him his second pair of jeans and technically each piece of clothes Daryl possesed that was still wearable. There was a toothbrush, paste, shower gel... his brother obviously knew how to get packed for occasions like these. When he was nearly finished he realized something hard, square-shaped and pulled it out. It was a folding photoframe. Old, beat-up and silver. Daryl frowned before he unfolded it. And looked at it in disbelief.  
It was a picture, taken eons ago. A stunningly beautiful woman smiled towards the camera, holding a newborn. Next to her stood a scrubby boy who looked at the baby with unconcealed fascination. His mother. His brother. Himself. Daryl once again got aware of the fact how much his own features resembled his mother's, besides the fact that she had shiny black hair combined to that ice-blue eyes. He snapped the frame close quickly before his eyes would start to burn even more.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

William Clearwater didn't say a word while he drove with his daughter to the appointment at the medical officer some days later. Chrissie's eyes were swollen from crying all night, again.   
Her mother had refused to join them and Chrissie knew for sure it wasn't as she had to join the preparations for the Country Club picnic like she had told her, but because she was ashamed.   
They arrived early. A nice woman at the front desk gave her a warm smile but Chrissie felt only numb, wasted. Worn out.   
Her father didn't hesitate to tell everybody his point of view since he had found out about his daughter's pregnancy.   
"We are here today to have my daughter checked and examined as she got pregnant by rape." He told the woman, not bothering about the other patients within earshot. "There's surely some tests needed to exclude sexually transferrable diseases, too. Hopefully at least."   
Chrissie felt so low. She tried to avert anybody by looking to the floor. She had tried and tell her father that it had all been mutual and she'd best like to get an abortion or give the baby up for adoption, but he never listened to her.  
In his opinion it had been rape, just for the fact that she was underage. He would sue the man that had ruined his daughter's life until he was lying in the dirt, where he undoubtedly came from and for sure belonged to. He had his ways to gather information, and he'd used them all as soon as he knew Daryl Dixon's Name.   
Up to this date, half of the town -at least the better half- was well informed about what this man had done to his teenage daughter. Nevertheless he didn't drop an occassion to torture Chrissie by dropping comments about upright girls and how they were supposed to keep their legs together until marriage.  
He had been shocked when he had learned about the Dixon's reputation and had seen Merle's legal file. Although Daryl's own was nearly blank, apart from little stealings as a teenager at the grocery store and some bar fights, in one of which he had attacked an Officer recently, he was convinved that he was just sly enough to not being catched. Which made things even worse to him. The fact that Daryl up to now had always paid the installments he had been sentenced to right in time didn't impress him in the least.   
His boss, Ed Peletier, was kinda lowlife himself, but had assured him instantly that no Dixon would ever be employed at his shop again. That prick had even pretended to have known "all about that brothers" but how good he was himself and giving second chances to people like "that Dixon boy".   
William Clearwater swiped away his thoughts as his daughter's name was called and followed her to the examination.   
She got measured, weighted and blood was taken. Dr. Sandra Rhee perceived the tention between father and daughter and therefore asked Mr Clearwater to stay at her office while she took Chrissie to the examination room.   
"It's a brave decision to keep that baby." She told her. "Not every girl would have a baby that was conceived this way."  
Chrissie squinted at her with watery eyes. "I have no choice." She whispered.   
Dr Rhee looked at her surprised. "Why do you say that? I know an abortion is quite a hard decision to take and after all a child is always a blessing from God..."   
"It's not like that." Chrissie whispered. "My father told me not to do so. I have to obey him. I met this guy and went home with him. It was a mistake. A huge mistake."  
Dr Rhee stopped in her tracks and went over to where Chrissie sat at the edge of the examination chair. She lay a hand on her bare knee. "Did anybody ever talk to you about your feelings towards this?" Chrissie shook her head slightly no.   
"Do you wanna talk about it?" The doctor asked her sofly. She glared at her with her ocean-blue eyes from underneath thick lashes and before she knew it, she had started to cry once again. If there was a lifetime limit for tears, hers would soon be reached, she was sure.   
"We will have this examination and then go to my room to have a little private talk, allright? Just girl to girl?" Chrissie nodded.   
"Okay. Please lay back, this will be quick." She inspected Chrissie's vagina, took a smear test and then applied some jelly to her stomach before putting the ultrasound probe down.  
Some grey shadows appeared on the screen of the ultrasound device. Chrissie turned her head but couldn't identify anything. She hadn't told the doctor that this was her first examination ever regarding her lady parts. She had had her period two years ago for the first time and it had always been reliable, yet didn't cause her any trouble. And since she was not supposed to have a boyfriend before graduating Highschool, or even better, before beeing hooked up by her parents to a husband that was to their liking, there had been no need to check on these things. She hadn't even planned on getting rid of her virginity that particular night, albeit she had always had in mind to have this done by her own decision and not when her parents did approve. That was what it had been to her. Have it done. Although the evening at the bonfire wasn't about this in the first place. It had been about breaking free for some hours, wearing make-up and drinking beer. And when Samantha had vanished with that so much older Redneck to "have some reeeeal fun" she had decided to to alike.   
"There we go..." Dr. Rhee now said.  
"This little dumpling here is what wants to be a baby one day." Chrissie gasped and put a hand to her mouth. A dark little spot in the midst of grey fuzz.   
This was it? "It"? This was the soon-to-be baby a man named Daryl Dixon had put inside her by accident?


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Daryl regained consciousness slowly. He instantly stiffened and tried to sit up, but was held back by two pairs of handcuffs locked to the sides of the examination table he was lying on.   
"Ah, Mr Dixon. Nice to have you back with us." a male voice stated. Daryl turned his head to the side he estimated the voice to come from. His head hurt bad. His head, his back, his arms, his everything.   
"Mr Dixon, did you really assume this behaviour would be tolerated?"   
Daryl tried to remember what had happened last. He'd been brought to Telfair Prison north of McRae. The ride had been nearly one and a half hours. He had been brought over with a police car, not a closed van as he first had assumed.   
Therefore everybody in the passing cars had been able to take a look at him, which they did without hesitation. For about half an hour he had tried to avoid the stares of the people passing by, then had decided to do as his brother supposedly would and just looked back blankly. They wanted the show, they should get it. He could imagine vividly how mothers told their kids at his view always to behave or they would end up just like him. He couldn't recall his own mother ever to teach him manners. Merle himself had taught him, not too long ago, how to properly sit at a table and eat without wiping his mouth at his sleeve. Hadn't gotten him too far, though. Once arrived at the prison he had to undergo examination for fleas and even an anal-checkup despite he hadn't had contact to anybody within the last three days he'd spent at the drunk tank of the local Sheriff's office, in lack of other possibilities.   
Now he was lying in what must have been a doctor's office and slowly started to remember why. He had been on his way to his cell when other inmates, who for some reason seemed to know what he'd been arrested for, had started to shout, throwing words like rapist, child fucker and pedophile at him. He'd manage to stay calm up to the moment an ugly Latino had asked him if Rednecks didn't rather fuck their mothers. That had gotten him over the edge, and with all the ferocity he ever possesed he had ripped from the grip of the guard and had attacked that ugly, gold-teethed bastard of an immigrant and beat the shit outta him. At least until his buddies had come to join in. He must have gotten several kicks and punches towards his head and ribcage, judging by the pain he felt as he tried to mentally recollect the several pieces of his body.   
The man who was dressed as a doctor now came over to take a look at him. With a little flashlight he checked Daryl's eyes, causing him to flinch.   
"So, Mister Dixon. As you might have noticed, in here we have our own ways to cope with freaks like you. But I'm sure you're a quick learner, ain't you?" Daryl didn't reply but focused him with squinted eyes. The man obviously hadn't expected an answer and proceeded by a look at what must been Daryl's file "So you're only 26. What makes a guy like you fuck a little girl? Has there always been this need to be succumbed? Or was it just the occasion?"  
Daryl scoffed as the doctor obviously didn't know the details. He'd find out himself, Daryl wasn't the one to tell stories, true or not. He wouldn't be believed anyway, he knew.   
Slightly dissapointed the doc pressed a button on the the phone at his desk.  
"May Warren please come over?"   
Warren turned out to be a big black guy with the looks of John Coffey of "The Green Mile" but undoubtedly without his kindness.  
He unlocked the handcuffs and with a nod told him to stand up. Daryl slowly slid off the table but nearly lost balance while trying to stand. "He's probably got a little concussion, but nothing to worry about. These people recover quickly. Nothing but like an evening at a bar, isn't it?" The first man smiled devilish towards Daryl, who decided to subdue, at least for the time being. He nodded, then turned to Mister Warren Coffey.   
On their way down the hallway none of them spoke a word, but when he had led Daryl to his cell and was about to close the door, Warren lowered his head and whispered "Just stay strong. You gotta be." then slid the door close with a loud metallic bang and left.   
Daryl felt instantly captured, compined, like a deer in a trap. He paced the little cell back and forth, then slammed his hand flat to the wall. There was absolutely nothing he could do. The one thing he always did to calm down and feel safe, to go into his beloved woods, had been taken from him. Nothing seemed farther at that very moment like the trees, the leaves on the ground and the safety that came from them. He leaned his head to the cool concrete wall and tried to calm his breath. His head was throbbing with pain. He looked around in the windowless room. From no point the world outside could be seen. Back at the drunk tank there had at least been one little barred window above the plank bed which he could look outside if he stepped on it. Here was nothing.   
Daryl noticed his dufflebag next to the toilet and on the little table beneath it was a tray with a sandwich on a plate and a bottle of water. It was only at this moment when he realized how hungry and thirsty he was. He gulped down both of it within seconds, and within some more seconds he found himself throwing up into the steel toilet. Over and over again, it wouldn't stop until he was dry heaving and nearly collapsed to the cold mere floor. "Dixon! Wanna die or what?" a voice snarled. Daryl managed to turn his head far enough to see a prison guard standing in front of the cell. He was too weak to reply, but shook his head no and slowly climbed up to the bed. The guard left without another word and left Daryl with his obvious concussion alone. He straightened to his back and took a deep breath. At least it was quite dim in here so his eyes wouldn't be tortured beyond necessity. As he hadn't been told when and where the next steps would take place, he decided to try and get some sleep. And it came, merciful and dreamless.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back at the bonfire...

Chapter 11

"So ya new in town o' sumthin?" Daryl asked the overdressed blonde as he had pulled her up to his truck.  
"Something..." She gave back but couldn't hide her insecurity resonating in her voice. Daryl settled back down towards the spare tire he kept on the bed of his truck and waved her over with his hand.   
She moved up to him and he handed her a beer. "Name's Daryl" he said between a puff of smoke. "I am Chrissie." she smiled at him shyly. For some moments both of them were uncomfortabely quiet, then Daryl just stated, "Hey honey, I won't bite. We can just sit 'ere and watch the fire if ya want."  
"Yes, I would like that." she replied, and for a while they did nothing but that. Daryl shared his cigarettes and beer with her, and when one of Merle's friends passed by with an appreciative whistle, he put his arm around her shoulders. "Whatcha doing? college o' sumthin?" He asked, just to be sure what to go on with. If she told him she'd be still at highschool he would run, and far. No need for angry daddys or brothers afterwards.   
"I just graduated" she told him. Daryl had drunken at least seven beers up to this point but was still in possession of his thoughts, at least as far as he could tell. He glanced at the girl in his arms and could see that she was already one or two steps further. "Where's your friends went?" He asked her, as he was uncertain what to do with her now. His brother probably would have slapped his head if he had known. "Take her home! Are ya a pussy o' what? These opportunites don't come as often!" Daryl nearly could hear Merle's voice say.   
"Went home maybe? I dunno! Who cares anyway?" Chrissie chuckled and cuddled towards him. She smelled like honey and cherries, like flowers and summernights, all at once. Daryl's mind was about to take a break. Hesitating Daryl finally asked "Wanna come with me? Just sleep, if ya want."   
The girl grinned at him knowingly "Yeah sure... whatever that means..." and with that she traced her fingers down his chest towards his crotch. Daryl inhaled sharply, he was surprised but drunk enough to have his concerns shoved alway. He gave her a wink and said "we will see..." wondering if there were porn movies starting just alike.   
He helped her down the truck and checked on his belongings before shutting the tailgate. "Let's go!" he said. Chrissie looked confused? "Walk? Where to?"   
"Mah home. Don't drive like this, forget it. Ain't far anyhow." And he propped her up and they went down the street together.   
Both of them didn't notice the person watching them from a car parked a little apart.   
As they arrived at the trailer they had started to joke about silly things, stumbling up the front stairs with laughter. Daryl crashed into the door so hard, he wondered if he'd still need a key anyhow. Still leaning against it, a half-smoked cigarette in the corner of his mouth, he fumbled in his pocket when the door suddenly opened and he fell inside before even knowing it. He glanced upwards at the confused face of his older brother who was standing there shirtless and the only halfway-buttoned jeans with nothing underneath hanging on his hips.   
Chrissie was laughing so hard, she almost fell over, and so did Daryl. Merle just shook his head and shushed the redhead that had stuck out her head from his bedroom back to where they had come from. Walking away he turned his head to his brother and said with a smirk "have fun, ya two." and away he was.   
Chrissie in the meanwhile had tried to help Daryl up from the floor, but the result was that she fell on top of him. Daryl grabbed her waist with a firm grip and she yelped in surprise. But all he did was shoving both of them further into the room so he could kick the door closed with his foot. There they lay, Daryl's cigarette long forgotten on the stained carpet next to them. He looked her in the eyes, their faced only inches apart. She bent down her head, and before he knew it, her lips touched his. He flinched in surprise, but only for a second, then lifted his head and eagerly pressed his lips back to hers. Slightly open, their lips caressed each others softly. But then Daryl shoved her down from his chest and forced himself on top of her. She lifted her arms over her head and there she lay, relaxed, seductively smiling up at him, her hair in a beautiful mess around her milk-white face.   
And now Daryl leaned down and kissed her, hard this time, and roughly slid his tongue in her mouth. She moaned in anticipation when their tongues met and swirled, tasting each other. "Better go to mah room, huh?" Daryl asked with deep and husky voice. Chrissie only nodded, and he got her up in his arms and lifted her tiny frame, almost shouldered her, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. He groaned when she slid down and her pelvis pressed against his already stone hard cock. He slid a hand onto her ass to pull her tighter as they stumbled into his room.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

"Anybody here?" Merle shouted into the office, not bothering about the early hour.   
He'd just come back from a run to Atlanta and decided he was edgy enough to deal with that Peletier asshole. He had never understood how Daryl could work for him. There were enough possibilities for him to gather more money with less effort, if he had only wanted.   
But his brother had always been a little different. He had liked to go to school, to get good grades. He had cried at home when he was little, when teachers had prejudiced him for being a Dixon. He had done real good at highschool, albeit he had always had an outsider position.   
Then one day, he had come home, dashing his bag in the corner of their shared room, cursing, shouting and in complete loss of any temper he always had in contrast to his older brother.   
"Are you crazy? Stop it, goddamnit!" Merle had croaked, still half-asleep in his bed.   
"Fuck it! Fuck them all!" Was the only answer he got, and when he turned in search of his baby brother, he saw his cheeks wet with tears. "Wow! Hey! You're alive and kickin' how bad can it be?!"  
Daryl plopped on his bed and faced his brother.   
"I quit school today."  
"Soon enough." Was Merle's only answer. "But why? Seemed you liked that educatee stuff?"  
"For what should I stay? Can't afford college anyways! Ever heard about the costs? Doubt our fucking father has set up a college fund, huh?!"  
"No he surely didn't." Merle confirmed. "Come here, baby brother. Life ain't fair. But we'll always have one another."   
Daryl had crawled up to him on his bed, sobbing with dissapointment.   
This was were the differences between people started. Merle had honestly thought about robbing a bank to have his brother the education he deserved. God was wrong, he thought, this boy wasn't supposed to be born into the Dixon family. He deserved so much better.  
On that very day he knew, something deep inside his baby brother had ripped. Had he been an outsider before, had he now pulled away completely, like locked up in himself, only interrupted by periodical outbursts of anger and rage.   
Daryl had always been good. Only had his attempts to show it not been appreciated by the life he was forced to lead.   
Time would reveal if there was a chance for him to do it right this time.   
Merle frankly doubted it as he stood there at the garage and shouted for the city-known wife-beater Ed Peletier.   
"What's up?" Ed Peletier came around the corner. As soon as he had recognized whom was standing there, his expression darkened.   
"Oh great. The rapist's brother. Watcha doin' here?"   
"Ya know damn well ain't like this!" Merle spat back. "But I'll be gone quick. Ya owe mah brother seven hours of pay. And i won't discuss, I guess you know whom your're talking to."  
"So whatcha wanna do, huh?" Ed asked him with a slimy grin. "Don't remember those unpaid hours, but of course I'll pay if you can give proof..."  
"My proof's everything that won't happen to you, Mister. The working accident that won't occur. The teeth still in ya mouth. Maybe even that little girl of yours still untouched. What's her name again? Meredith?" Merle was bluffing, but he was a good actor, plus he'd kept up with the necessary facts like the Peletiers' address and the name of their little girl. She must've been bout one year old and Merle was surprised that Mrs Peletier had managed to keep her alive, but judging by the bruises she showed more often than not, she doubtlessly took beatings for two since the day the kid was born.   
Ed's eyes widened in surprise, but he wasn't done yet. "And what if I saw your brother at that bonfire? Dragging a little unconscious teenage girl away? Or even better, a drunken teenage girl that tried to fight him off but was too weak? Huh? You sure there's hours unpaid?"  
Merle was slightly surprised, but instead of an answer he slowly dragged out his cigarettes and lighter. He lit one up and strolled over to where a canister of fuel was stored. "I don't think ya seen anything at the bonfire. Cause it'd mean you saw a crime or at least an attempt without notifying the cops? Could come out bad for ya. Could lead to a background-check even. One of these when social services find bruises on child and mother by chance. Ya know what I mean?"  
With these words Merle had arrived at the canister and reached out his hand to unscrew the cap. "So what do you want?" Ed knew he was screwed. "Well... What about 400 bucks? Fair enough I guess. Felt like my brother got a little exploited the last months, damn sure you didn't want that, did'cha?"   
Ten minutes later Merle left the building with eight pictures of President Grant, smiling like a cat that just devoured a bowl of cream.   
Life was easy sometimes.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13 

"Oh yeah.... Daryl pleeeeease.... I wanna feel you... This is so goooood... And your cock is so big.... You fill me out so good..." - "Yeah baby.... Come spread your legs fo'me... Imma fuck ya over the edge..."  
And he grabs her hips, roughly, thrusting deep into the hot moist of her center, trying to satiate her demand, trying to still the ache of his wanton desire...  
Hard... hard... hard he thrusted into her, over and over again, moaning, sweating, making her pant...  
~~~~~~~  
"Dixon! Hey! Get up! Ya got company!"  
"Hmmm? What?" Daryl woke up slowly, instantly aware of the aching boner in his pants. He pulled the blanket closer as he turned to see where the voice was coming from.  
A guard whom Daryl recognized as "J. Eckhouse" shouted at him. Daryl had slept late the past five days since the opening times didn't affect him. He had spent his days waiting in his cell, sleeping and reading a book called "Lord of the Rings". It had been in the trolley the lady from the library had brought over the second day. Daryl had never heard about this book or its author, but he liked it very much. He made a mental note to buy it for his brother's next birthday, he'd surely like it, too. Daryl himself had stopped reading by approximately the same time he had quit highschool. No need for that shit, he had decided. Book won't get ya nowhere, his father used to say. Damn right sometimes, his old man, he had to admit.  
"Which company?" He croaked towards the old man outside his cell. "Lawyer. I'll get ya in ten minutes! Hurry up!" And gone he was.  
Daryl tried to collect his thoughts. His head had been much better already the next day, and by the third day he had already been able to read in his book without much effort. His mind came back to his dream. It had been Chrissie. Jesus Christ. Why did he dream about fucking that girl again? To make it worth it at least?  
What a dream... His cock was still rock-hard, but he had no time to rub off, unfortunately. Should he be ashamed? Hell no, he decided. Story was long over, he'd probably rot in here for the next ten years. And afterwards he'd have to work off what had mounted up of unpaid child support. He blinked. What would that child look like? Would it be a boy or a girl? Oh no! Hell no! He wouldn't start thinking about a child that had ruined his life before even been born.  
He scoffed and swung his legs down from the bunk-bed. He was ready within minutes, dressed and teeth brushed. He wondered if he'd ever be allowed to take a shower, but he didn't really mind to be dirty. Never was. Helped keeping people away from him. The guard came back and led Daryl to a visiting room. It was empty except for a table and two chairs. And it had a window. "She'll be right here." Mr Eckhouse told him and closed the door. Daryl instantly went for the window, it couldn't be opened and had bars on it, but the sun was shining and he could see some single trees, and in a distance the treeline where the woods began seemed to greet him like an old friend. He leaned his forehead to the bars and imagined the smell of the leaves on the ground, the birds singing and the warmth of the sun on his skin. He flinched at the sound of someone clearing his throat behind him. He hadn't even realized the door had opened, which was highly unusual for him. Freedom could be very distractive, obviously. A blonde lady was standing there, some unknown guard at her side, and mustered him. Daryl instantly felt ashamed for how dirty he was but quickly regained his composure. He never gave a shit about what people thought, so why start with it today?  
"Hi, I'm Andrea Harrison, your brother called me." 

Daryl turned to her completely now. With the sun in his back he looked gorgeous, Andrea thought. Quickly she brushed off her thoughts. He was an alleged rapist, after all. And dirty, too, she realized. She had to stay professional.  
She waved her hand towards the table and they both took a seat.  
"So whatcha here for?" Daryl asked without bothering. "Excuse me?" Andrea raised her eyebrows at him. "Mah brother did call? Ya know I ain't got no money to pay, do ya? Ya sure ya ain't at the wrong place? I'll be sentenced right away. Nothing ya can do 'bout it. Just a waste of time, that is."  
"I didn't attend college for all those years to give in that quick." Andrea gave back much calmer than she felt. She realized how Daryl clenched his hand into a fist by her words. "I'm a public defender. I'll get paid by the State of Georgia. Don't worry. Biggest problem we have is the age of .... " she started to flick through the pages of the file she had brought. "Chrissie." Daryl jumped in gruffy  
"Yes, Christine Clearwater." Andrea closed the file and took down the glasses she had come with. She bend over a bit and looked Daryl sternly in the eyes. "Okay, before we start, I have to ask you: do you want me to help you? Can you promise me to tell me the truth? Always an in every detail? If not, I'm ok with it. It's your decision." Daryl looked up from his now folded hands and focused her sternly. After what seemed like an eternity, he finally nodded "Yes, ma'am." Andrea nodded back, satisfied. This was a good point to begin with.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

"Mr Clearwater... I just had a little talk with your daughter. She said, of course, that it was a huge mistake what she did, but that everything went mutual. Are you aware of that fact?" Dr Sandra Rhee asked as she had taken her seat at her desk. William Clearwater's eyebrows shot practically into his forehead, and with a menacing cold voice he said "Dr Rhee... I don't know if YOU are aware of the fact that she's a minor, and therefore there isn't such a thing as 'mutual'."   
"Well Mr Clearwater, I have to disagree. She's 17 years and four months old, so her testimony will have a say in the trial. Besides, this proves this young man has technically done nothing wrong. At least in this regard."  
"Dr Rhee, due to all owed respect..." But Dr Rhee did, what people seldomly dared to do and interrupted Mr Clearwater. "It's not about what I think, it's about what's the fact. Just wanted you to know. You really should reconsider which details to give to the public, okay?" And by the last word she shoved the ultrasound picture towards him. "This is what will be your grandkid one day. And he or she will love you, I can tell." And with that she had done for the second time that day what people seldomly did- leave Mr Clearwater speechless. He looked up at her from the picture and just nodded, pinching the bridge of his nose.   
"Your daughter is waiting for you by the counter. And she loves you, too." She handed him the examination results. Obviously disturbed, Will Clearwater just nodded briefly and said goodbye, then left. She smiled after him. Fathers were only men, too.   
Once arrived at his daughter, Will straightened his pose and offered her his arm to cling to. Chrissie looked surprised but accepted instantly. She didn't know what this was about, but she kinda soaked up her father's warm touch after having experienced so much rejection by the most important man in her life during the past days.   
As they had settled in the family's big truck, Will turned to his daughter.   
"So... All mutual, right?" Chrissie nodded shyly.   
"I'm gonna be a granddaddy, hm?" Chrissie nodded again, smiling now.   
"So I guess we have to spread the news to your momma, then!"   
On their way home Chrissie cuddled up to her dad the best she could. She didn't know what Dr Rhee had said to him, but she didn't care. What had stayed on her mind, however, was an entirely different statement the doctor had made. A baby is a blessing from God. And she wouldn't reject that blessing in one or another way. She would do the best she could, with or without the help of her baby's daddy.  
While they drove home in the beginning afterwork traffic, Chrissie started to wonder what Daryl was like. Really like. Not the aggressive man she'd seen the last two times. He had been really nice to her the evening he had... taken her virginity and given her a baby instead. He was a little rough around the edges though. If she had told him she'd still been a virgin, he surely would have been softer, too. But she hadn't.   
After a few miles they got stuck in the traffic and Chrissie's mind began to wander.   
"Daddy?" She asked carefully. "What's up, princess?" - "What did you find out about Daryl Dixon? I mean... can you tell me about him?" - "Oh sweetheart, do you really want to start off with that? He's a lowlife. A no-good redneck. Way beneath you. Better forget about him. He won't be able to pay a single dime to support your child, i can tell. You will get sole custody for sure as you will be eighteen by the time of birth, and if there are problems, I will jump in as legal representative. Okay? Everything's gonna be good. I won't let you down."  
"Yes, sir. Thank you." But after a short pause she spoke up again. "But please tell me, is he a bad person or something? Is he a criminal?" William Clearwater sighed deeply before he responded. She was a romantic teenager after all.   
"Yes baby, I'm sorry, but he is. Stealing, bar fights and several interrogations about incidents that in the end couldn't be prooved. Even has to pay installments these days for beating up an Officer. What should you think about people like these? And his brother is even worse. Been sentenced for drugs and things. Not somebody you want to have around a baby. How the heck did you get hooked up with him? He could have done who-knows-what to you! I'm glad you're alive, the longer I think about it."  
"No Daddy, he was really nice to me. Really did nothing without my consent. Even gave me and Samantha a ride up to Target the next..." her eyes widened and she slapped her hand to her mouth as she got aware of what she just had said.   
"Christine! You didn't just tell me that Samantha was with you, did you? What for goodness sake happened in that house that night?"


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

"So you're telling me, Samantha was with you? I always told you, that girl is no good!" Mr Clearwater tried to recall what he remembered about Samantha. She had graduated last year and had taken a social year off before going to college this fall. Despite her age she and Chrissie had been friends now for about two years and a half. Samantha wasn't what you'd call a beauty, honestly not. She was one of those redheads on whom even make-up didn't seem to make any difference, but she was a strong person, stubborn sometimes though, and had a very well-endowed figure. Will had never liked his daughter to hang out with her, but at least she was from a good family on the proverbial right side of the tracks.   
He had pulled over to a gas station in the meanwhile, to have this conversation with his daughter without having to deal with the traffic in addition. He had turned to her, left wrist resting on the upper side of the steering-wheel, right arm on the backrest of the front seats' bank. Chrissie had pulled back a little, sitting now quite by the passenger door, legs crossed, rolling her eyes and faced her father with a look that could be described best as surrender.  
"Okay, Daddy, Imma tell you now and one time only what happened, okay? But please don't yell at me more than you already did, promise?"   
"Okay I promise." Will nodded and frankly looked his only daughter in the eyes.   
"Okay. We were at Sam's that evening. Got dressed up to look older. Did our make-up and hair. Then we drove over to the bonfire. Rachel and Valentina were with us, too. At some point one of us -and don't ask whom it was- decided to have fun that night. Said there sure as hell..." - "Watch your language!" - "Sorry Daddy- said there surely would be some good men. And good in the sence of... " - "I'm afraid I know what you're talking about. Go on." Chrissie cleared her throat uncomfortably and settled back. "Well, then Samantha went for Daryl's brother. Merle's his name. And gone they were. I then spotted Daryl lying on the bed of his truck and decided to go and try. Nothing bad, really. Just some flirting, trying out my .... charms so to say."   
William again pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed deeply. He wasn't sure if he wanted to hear the rest, but if he'd had to deal with the outcome anyway...  
"So... Daryl invited me to join him. Didn't speak much at first. We drank some beer and smo... ahm... I mean..." - "it's okay baby." Will shook his head "Guess smoking wasn't the worst thing to happen that evening." - "Well... I got wasted way too quick as I hardly ever drank before. And before I could tell everyone was gone. Daryl invited me to sleep over at his place, just sleep he said and I'm sure he meant it. It was me to approach him, honestly. Told him I graduated yet. He dragged me over to his place, and that's were Samantha was with his brother, too. The next morning..." - "Oh no Chrissie, not THAT quick. What about protection? Did he not bother AT ALL? And you? I mean, were you passed out drunk or what? Besides the obvious- didn't you care about diseases?"   
Chrissie lowered her gaze, then stated "Okay... this was on me, too. Daryl said we shouldn't do it, said he had no condoms. But I insisted. Told him I was on the pill. Thought nothing could happen by just  
one time. I just... It was just my fault. And I'm sorry beyond reason. I'm so sorry to have dissapointed you. I'm sorry you have to be ashamed of me. I'm even sorry to cry over my own mistake the whole time." And with that she burst into tears once again.   
"Shush... come here, my little fallen angel. We gonna pick you up, I promise. And don't you ever tell your momma about this, you hear?" Will Clearwater wasn't able to hate at this very moment. He just felt the strong love he had held for his daughter since the day she was born, not even eighteen years ago. His fallen angel. He wasn't sure what to do with these all-new facts, but he would keep the reputation of his family, come what may. This wasn't over just as quick.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Merle woke up to the sun shining in his face and some children playing outside noisily. He had done a run last night and afterwards spend some time on cleaning up this goddamn trailer. Daryl wouldn't have to shout at him for leaving their home a mess when he'd get back. Soon, as he hoped. He hadn't heard about his brother for nearly about two weeks. Had been notified that the hearing was about to take place by the end of this week, on Friday. He didn't think it would be too good to have to deal with a judge that had a whole week of bullshit on their back and only wanted to have things done and get to their weekend, but it wasn't to be choosen. He made himself some coffee and had just lit up a cigarette when he heard the sound of a car door slamming. By looking out of the window he could see the postman leave in his van. The sign on the mailbox had been turned upwards and he knew what this had to mean. He had written a letter to Daryl the day he had been brought to Telfair instantly, knowing it would take some time to pass the controlling instances of the prison. Dressed only in his boxers and a the plain black shirt with the ripped-off sleeves he had come home with the other day, he strolled down the steps of the small front porch. There were two letters even, one from the office of Daryl's lawyer, a hot blonde chick, that was, and a letter from his baby brother himself.   
Back inside he checked the lawyer's letter first. The date of the hearing had been confirmed and he was invited to go through the file before. He would call her later.   
He opened Daryl's letter and with each word he read of his brother's unsteady handwriting, his expression became darker and darker. Finally he sighed deeply and admitted to himself that he would give in to his brother's demands.   
He went for Daryl's room to gather the requested and quickly got dressed before getting on his bike. 

****

Mrs Clearwater was standing in the kitchen cleaning up after one more perfect meal she had prepared for her family. Chrissie had shown a good appetite, which was no wonder, she thought. All women in the family had been happy eaters during their pregnancies. She shook her head slightly. Pregnant at 17 and a baby by 18. And the father by the same time either in jail or who-knows-where. There surely were cases in which the father better remained unknown. Sharon shook her head again.  
A lowlife scum, she thought. Her daughter deserved so much better. Maybe hope wasn't lost and she'd catch a husband later on when the child was a little bigger. Chrissie could even attend college, she would take care of her grandkid in the meanwhile. She had raised three children so far, she would handle a fourth easily. Her husband and daughter seemed to have made their peace by the time they'd came back from the doctors appointment some days earlier, but wouldn't tell her anything about it. All William had said was, that she shouldn't worry. Everything would be fine.   
Which was highly to be doubted as her husband was none to give in. He hadn't come that far in life, if he had. Anyway- she hadn't come that far neither, if she hadn't learnt to deal with her husband's moods.   
As she heard the roaring sound of a motorcycle in the driveway she called for him. Fortunately he hadn't gone to his office that day but was working from home.   
"Will! There's one of these... men outside!"  
Within moments Mr Clearwater had arrived the hallway. "What does he want from us?" Sharon Clearwater asked obviously intimidated at the sight of some seedy man approaching the house. "We will find out, I guess." William said and opened the door before Merle had gotten a chance to even look for the bell.  
Merle took a step back in surprise. Yeah, sure they had seen him coming. Prolly even had cameras round the house.   
"Hello, Mister...?" Will Clearwater said in a cold, business-like tone. "Morning." Merle gave back, instantly aware that it must have been afternoon already. Fuck it, he thought. Good for the appearance after all.  
"Hey, mah name's Dixon... I'm Daryl's brother... I won't take long, I'm just here to give you something by request of mah brother... to Chrissie, that is." He told them people standing there in front of him, unsure and therefore slow.  
"My daughter is busy dealing with what your brother did to her. You'll have to cope with me instead." Will snapped back.  
"Uhm, okay then... Yeah, well... Daryl wanted you to have it. It's not much but it's all he has... right now. For the medical expenses and stuff, he said." And with that he grabbed the envelope he had carried in the inside pocket of his frayed leather vest and handed it to Mr Clearwater, who looked at him deeply surprised.   
"Won't take your time any longer, goodbye Ma'am, Mister Clearwater."  
And he turned on his heel with a tap to his non-existent hat and left.  
What a shame, he thought. So much money for people who were drowning from it anyway. They sure as hell had a health insurance, too. But that was his brother. Too good for this life from the deepest ground of his heart. He must have done something wrong while trying to raise him, Merle thought to himself.   
As soon as he had taken off, Chrissie peeked around the corner of the diningroom curiously. "Was this Merle Dixon?" her mother shot her a warning glare "You better go to your room now. Your father and I have to talk."  
"Yes ma'am." Chrissie was so used to obey that she relented instantly.   
Her parents went to the kitchen where her father lay the envelope on the counter. "Won't you open it?" Sharon asked.   
Will didn't reply but asked back "You know what that means, do you?" as his wife frowned at him only, he continnued "he thinks he can whitewash his actions. Can pull his head from the loop. I won't touch his dirty drug-money, or whereever it may come from."   
"William! Why do you always have that attitude? He will have to pay anyway! Why would you blame him for just doing it? You've gotten him into jail, it would be much more comprehensible if he'd give a shot!"  
"Darling, I hate to ask that question, but are you still aware of the fact that all this comes from a grown man ... going to bed with a teenager?" He raised his eyebrows in disbelief at his wife. "On which side are you after all?" Sharon scoffed. "William Clearwater! After 28 years of marriage, three children and one grandkid in anticipation I still love you. But you're a stubborn piece of South sometimes!"  
William had stopped in his tracks. Hardly ever did his wife talk to him like that. But if she did, she always had a point, and so she did this time. "I don't want to judge about right or wrong. That young man surely doesn't want to be a father as far as I captured it. Still it is not wrong in any way if he takes responsibility for his actions. Don't get me wrong! I don't want him around my daughter or grandchild either, this is just fine by me, too, but you have to make a cut!"   
And by the end of her speech Sharon Clearwater grabbed the envelope on the counter and ripped it open.   
She looked at the bills in her hand with widened eyes. It was $700,- in total.   
She could tell this was all Daryl Dixon had possessed.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here it is... the ominous night. Enjoy!

Chapter 17

They crashed hard to the bed, Daryl fell onto Chrissie and was lucky he didn't knock her out by accident.   
She laughed out but was instantly stopped by Daryl pushing his lips onto hers again, hungrily and penetrating her mouth with his toungue, demanding and in reflection of what he wanted to do to her pussy with his dick. He propped up on the right arm and with the other lifted her left leg up, then repeated the same on the other side, never loosing their kiss. He tasted like smoke, beer and throbbing lust, she thought. He tasted like a grown up man who had done this before countless times. But Chrissie's mind was too muzzy to worry about it any further. He pressed up against her and moaned deeply as his cock ached painfully, still captured in his pants. Chrissie shoved up against him and could tell her panties were soaking wet from a desire she didn't even know was possible. Oh yes, she wanted this and nothing else, she wanted to feel him deep inside her, she wanted him to fuck her right now and there like there was no tomorrow. The member she felt beneath these clothes would be the one to take her virginity, and for good. But then suddenly Daryl seemed to recover and let himself roll off of her with a scoff. "We can't so this" he grumbled, lying on his back, burying his face with his hands. "But why?!" Chrissie yelled out, dissapointed beyond belief, instantly putting her hand to to her mouth, shocked by how desperate she had sounded. "Fuck... I don't have... ya know... protection here..." Daryl mumbled, avoiding her stare. "What about your brother? You can go ask him!"   
"He never has those. I can tell. Just thought about it, too."  
But something in Chrissie's head snapped at that moment, she wouldn't leave this house unfucked, her decision was made. And so she smiled at him, seductively and self-conscious and simply said   
"Don't bother. I'm on the pill."   
But Daryl still hesitated, he propped up to his arms, shaking his head slightly no, ready to get up and end the whole thing before even completely started, and she knew she had to help him with that decision or both of them would go unsatisfied. With a certainty she hadn't believed she possesed she pushed him back to the bed, then opened the buckle of his belt with one hand. She paused, but Daryl didn't stop her. He had crossed his arms behind his neck and just looked at her with raised eyebrows, cocking his head to one side. That made her sure enough to continnue, getting up and placing herself on top of him, undoing her own belt and the buttons of her jeans to give him an outlook to the rim of her lace panties. Slowly, pushing her center against him once again, making him gasp, she lifted her tight top over her head and tossed it aside. Still wearing her bra, she slid down some inches to allow her fingers find the buttons of Daryl's pants. 

She shortly catched his gaze to make sure he enjoyed what she was doing and continnued sliding down until she stood halfway in front of the bed. She ordered Daryl to slide down as well, so his legs were hanging down and she had better conditions for what she was planning on. With a firm grip she hadn't known she was able to, she grabbed his throbbing cock and rubbed it, still inside his boxers until he was gasping for air, then leveraged it out. Thank God she had done this before she thought to herself, as she bent down to let her tongue slide alongside for the first of many times. Daryl nearly lost it and felt nothing but the overwhealming urge to push her down and he arched his back and bit the back of his hand to have him from shouting out loud. "Fuuuuuuckkk!" Was the only thing he was able to hiss as response to this unknown sensation. Never had any girl done this to him before. He was so fucking close on the verge of coming right then and there. He somehow managed to breathe on as Chrissie moistened the tip of his stone hard member with her tongue before sliding it into her mouth slowly. Daryl's head and limbs were prickling from a complete loss of blood, and he hadn't wondered if he'd fainted. He wasn't able to move as Chrissie slid her lips up and down the silken skin of his manhood. He could tell she'd done this before. The fact that she did this to him, that she considered to rely on the pill and therefore had to presume him to be clean, some sort of upright even, finally gave him the security he needed. He was sure to be clean, always had sex with condoms only, if any. He had never had a relationship, never wanted to. No other person should get close to him.   
So he pulled her up from where she remained in squatting position "You sure you're on the pill? No surprises afterwards?" Daryl now asked her with raspy voice. "Sure I am sure. Took it before I left the house tonight." Chrissie was surprised how easy she lied to him.   
"Come on, then." He whispered in her ear with lowered voice and forced her to the bed, now towering her again. He hooked his thumbs in the rim of her panties and jeans and pulled them down at once. Chrissie helped roll them off her ankles, had kicked off her shoes yet, and now remained lying in front of him in only her bra. She arched her back a little as she reached for the clip and tossed it away within seconds. Daryl kneeled on the bed next to her "What's up?" she asked him confused. Little did she know that Daryl simply hadn't seen this before. A woman, completely naked lying next to him. Sex always had been fast. "Get off that clothes now and quick!" She ordered, "before I change my mind!"  
Both of them knew that the only thing to be changed was the desire aching between both of their legs but nonetheless Daryl finally kicked off his boots as well and got rid of pants and boxers. "What about that?" She tugged on his sleeveless muscleshirt as he wanted to lie onto her "No." was his only answer and his tone left no room for discussions. Whatever, she thought and instead of any more conversation raised her chin to him, to beg him for one more kiss, to have him lie next to her and make her feel his skin, his hair, his manhood. And he did.   
By the next kiss he travelled his calloused hand down her chest, caressing her breasts and her peaked nipples, rubbing over them with his palm, before sliding downwards her tummy to her silken folds. She had no hair there, absolutely none. Not as he had assumed before, while undressing her, some soft locks between her thighs. Completely bare she was, soft, silken and precious. He couldn't do else than succumbe to the urge and spread her legs with his big hand and finally slide his finger inside the moist of her tight pussy. Chrissie yelped in surprise, and a little by pain even. But she knew she had crossed the line. There was no way telling him she was a virgin unless she wanted to remain it and have Daryl's anger on her. So she slid her hand down his shirt and grabbed his cock. "Would you fuck me, please, Mister D.?" He groaned deeply and as an answer lifted himself on top of her, spreading her legs further with his knee. "Ya sure ya want this?" He asked her with raised eyebrows. Chrissie nodded, looking him deep in the eyes. He lowered himself onto her, his pubic hair tickling her skin. Instantly she felt the pressure of his member against her entrance, pushing and demanding, and before she knew it, he was inside. Chrissie cried out as a sharp pain seemed to rip her and hoped Daryl hadn't feel something been torn. He stopped instantly "What's up? Did I hurt you?" "Just a little" Chrissie brought out while gasping for air, "Just haven't done this in a while, I'm sorry."  
Daryl was way to greedy to stop at this point, so he continnued, slowly. Never had he felt a woman without some piece of rubber in between. This was pure lust and he savoured it deeply. In and out he slid his cock, slowly, enjoying, again and again.   
Chrissie managed to relax after a while but the pain in her vagina wouldn't stop. She just hoped there were no stains of blood on the sheets afterwards. She decided it would be best to start pretending, and as she did she could tell how much Daryl liked it. He moved a little faster, thrusted inside her over and over again, but not with the ferocity she had assumed to be his but with some kind of devotion and adoration. He kissed her again and she could see the sweat on his forehead.  
"You like that, sweetheart?" - "Hell yeah, I do." Chrissie told him, which wasn't completely honest, but she had to admit that there wasn't only pain left between her thights, there was also some sort of prickling sensation. She could tell she was far away from any kind of orgasm, but at least she had gotten a glimpse of how it could be. Daryl in the meanwhile had put up his pace even more, and to not dissapoint him, she moaned a little louder.   
Daryl felt he was coming, in fact he had been struggling not to come early from the very first moment he had pushed his dick inside her. Just as he wondered if he'd better pull out, it was too late, and with a suppressed groan he spilled his seed deep inside her, his cock pumping, finally able once again to do what Daryl mostly tried to avert.   
He remained lying on top of her, heart pounding and panting, until he rolled off to her side.   
Chrissie was still lying on her back, breathing heavily, but not as Daryl assumed from pure pleasure. She inhaled sharply as she felt the remains of their intercourse dripping out of her, a little burning sensation even that made her worry about blood on the sheets. Daryl turned his head "What's up baby? Did I hurt you?"   
"No, not at all, but do you have some tissue or something in here?"   
"Oh yeah, sure..." he wasn't sure how it felt for a woman to lie there, dirty with both of their juices. He reached for the tissues unterneath his nightstand and handed them to her. He hoped she wouldn't draw any conclusions on the fact he had tissues underneath his nightstand. She cleaned herself up as far as possible while Daryl just grabbed his boxers and slid them back on. He was utterly exhausted, he wondered if he'd ever had sex in an actual bed before.  
"Bathroom's down the hall. You stay the night?" He asked, instantly regretting his choice of words. "I mean, of course ya can, ya know?"  
"Yes, I would like that." Chrissie replied with a shy smile before collecting her clothes, tissue still shoved in between her thighs, before excusing herself for the bathroom.   
Luckily, she found out, there was so little blood despite the sharp sting she'd felt, that Daryl surely wouldn't notice.   
By the time she got back in his room he was already fast asleep and she timidly lay down beside him, oddly trying to avoid physical contact.   
So, she was a woman now, she thought to herself. And nobody would ever know but her.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Andrea Harrison faced the dirty young man in front of her. He was no people person, she could tell. What charges had been filed against him seemed legit at first sight. She'd had these kind of cases before. Some lowlifes hooking up, then afterwards talking about non-consent intercourse, if not to say rape. But this had been mostly about dissapointed women or angry husbands and never about a pregnant minor.   
"Mr Dixon, the file says, you've had sexual intercourse with the seventeen-year-old daughter of the plaintiff against her will. What is your side of the story?"  
Daryl's eyes narrowed by hearing of these words and he spat back "That bitch sneaked up on me and offered me a good times. That's what happened! Said she had just graduated and was on the pill. Just like that, nothing more and nothing less. I got fooled and she got me. I'll rot in here for about ten years, and that's it, right?"  
"Well, as far as I know by now is that she surely didn't want to get pregnant, but the examination results say that there's a normal pregnancy to be expected, and..." She didn't get any further as Daryl interrupted her "How lucky can I be, huh? What do you think, how should I pay child support? My job's gone by now, even if they'd lemme go. No way to gather money from in 'ere. Already sent everything I had to her. I know 'bout medical expenses and things. Ain't that stupid, ya know?"  
"Excuse me, but you did what?" Andrea raised her eyebrows at him. She must have misheard, she was sure.   
"Ya know, I know when I'm fucked up. I will have to take whatever I'm sentenced to. I have absolutely no way to proove what happened. It's hers and her father's word against mine. And look at me- you think anyone believe me? But if that bun's mine, and I'm sure it is, then it will hate me enough for just being myself. But surely not for hiding away and not paying what's fair. I'm aware of the fact what everyone thinks 'bout me. All I can say is I'm gonna try. Can't say I'll make it, but I'll try."  
Andrea smiled softly at his words. After all he was a decent man. And he wouldn't know, but this attitude would make him much more credible to the judges than any other declaration. He sure got a point. He couldn't change the fact that he'd had sex with a minor, unknowingly, and furthermore -as well unknowingly- unprotected. But he could try and cope with the outcome.   
"You just said you sent her some money. How did you do that?" Daryl had long started to chew on his thumbnail "You got smokes?" he asked her instead of an answer. Having no smokes in here was probably the worst, besides the lack of daylight. Even the food was bearable, in comparison to what, or better what not, he got to eat at home usually.   
Andrea was prepared to the situation and had procured a pack of Morley's like she always used to before first discourses with new clients. Daryl seemed surprised as she held them up for the guard standing by to see. He came over quickly, even opened the seal to check on the contents but afterwards passed them on to Daryl who quickly lit the first of them up with the Zippo from his backpocket.   
He leaned back, relaxed for at least a moment and took a long, satisfying drag.   
"I heard you die from these?" Andrea asked, a little teasingly. "I heard you die from living." Daryl growled back. "Want one?" Andrea had to smile "I'll keep that up for later, I guess. So... you sent her money? How much?" - "I dunno" Daryl mumbled around the cigarette hanging from his lips "depends on what mah brother got from mah boss for outstanding pays. If he got what's mine, should be 'bout 300 bucks plus some I saved up at home. Wrote him a letter four days ago. So prolly ain't even there. I dunno."   
"Daryl, I want you to know that there's a legit chance for you. Christine will be sworn in for her testimony. If she can verify what you just told me, you might even get joint custody." but by these words Daryl pulled back in his chair and shook his head, hands rosen in surrender "Hell no! I'm not a father. That kid's way better off without me. Whatever you do, don't apply for that, ya hear? A prison inmate for its father and a criminal for an uncle... hell no! Better me not even be on the birth certificate! They won't like mah name there anyways. And not that last name crap, either. Shall they write father unknown or shit, ya hear?"  
Andrea was deeply surprised but didn't ask any further. She had written down everything they had talked about. The hearing was to take place by the end of the upcoming week. She would have to talk to Daryl's brother, a girl named Samantha Lawrence and the Clearwater's lawyer, which would be the worst, albeit the shortest part.   
Daryl had looked at least a little relieved by the time they had parted but the look in his eyes had shown her that he was far from the point where he would trust her.   
Walking back to her car Andrea thought about what he had told her. Although it had only been indistinct fragments of his youth and life, she knew how to put the pieces together.   
Mainly raised by his older brother, neglected by his father and a mother killed in a self-inflicted housefire when he was only eight.   
Is wasn't a wonder he had criminal record at all. It was a wonder he never had truly slipped up to now.   
She resolved to try and plead for acquittal.   
It would cause a little scandal, but in this case likely every option would.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

"Sam? Sam, you gotta come over! Please! It's an emergency! I think something terrible has happened! Oh my God!" Chrissie whispers into the phone, her voice not hiding sheer panic.   
"Chris? Why you whispering? What happened? Got kicked outta school for drugs or something?" Samantha asks back in normal voice. She isn't even bewildered by her friend's words. Chrissie isn't one to mess up. The worst thing she's ever done is going to some dingy bar with her, drinking beer and (drum-roll) smoking cigarettes before sneaking back into her perfect life. One that Sam doesn't envy her in the slightest. She has escaped from the very same kind of perfect life only months ago after graduating Highschool, and only by promising her parents over and over again to not cause a scandal of any kind. The official version of her year off is doing social stuff, helping the poor and the homeless in Atlanta. Truth is, she sure does help finding warmth and shelter, but usually for herself and one night at a time only. Her cousin who goes to college in Atlanta either joins her or picks her up from whatever bed she falls from in early morning hours. Brandon enjoys his freedom in Atlanta as well as he's gay and knows he's screwed if anybody in his Redneck-inherited hometown ever finds out. Unlike his cousin however, he is quite a handsome guy while Samantha is one of the less-blessed gingers with freckles all over and hair so red, she's sure she'd been burned a witch way before her adolescence if she'd been born in the wrong century.   
Thanks to the invention of covering make-up and the idea of most bar owners to keep the lights dimmed, she eventually has her encounters nonetheless.   
From time to time however, she comes to visit her parents and of course her friends to hang out with and tell her big-city-stories. She had been home last time several weeks ago when Chrissie and some friends of theirs had went to that bonfire on the... well... other side of the town. Within minutes she had spotted her latest victim although she'd left him believing it had been just the opposite. She had known Merle Dixon before, even though she wasn't sure if he did remember her. She honestly didn't care. He was exactly what she wanted: honest (maybe a little too much sometimes), horny and straight to the point. And Jesus Christ, that man surely knew where every point being worth to get to on her body was!  
They hadn't wasted much time and had already had a real good time -just like intended- in his bed before about two hours later they had heard some strange sound coming from the front door. Afraid of the cops although she hadn't done anything illegal, she had jumped outta bed and gathered her clothes and belongings to vanish through the backside window if needed. Her parents would've killed her if she'd been taken to interrogation in the middle of the night with disheveled hair and smudged make-up even it hadn't been with Merle Dixon in tow. Merle had already been on full alert, sneaking to the door before ripping it open all in a sudden, only to have his younger brother fall to the floor at his feet like a bag of wet sand. She'd catched a glimpse of Chrissie before been hushed back to bed to continnue what they'd been interrupted at, and judging by the noises coming from the neighbouring room shortly after, she could surely tell that there were two more people having their own private dance.   
Now she dearly worries what might have happened to her friend. Maybe Charlie had sneaked after them like he'd done once before and had seen both of them hook up with some shady guys. Although this was quite unlikely as so much time had passed since then. Well, in the worst case, she thinks to herself, she'll have to backup whatever story of joint drinking Chrissie had already dished up to her parents. Wouldn't come out too bad eventually. So she only yawns loudly and replies "A'ight... I'll be there in ten minutes."   
Chrissie welcomes her at the door and drags her to her room without another word. She quickly locks the door and focuses her friend with a mixture of angst and pure insanity.   
Samantha captures that it has to be more serious than previously estimated. She grabs her upper arms and shakes her slightly "Hey babe! Slow down! What happened? Can't be too worse if you're alive!" Chrissie again whispers, like the walls have suddenly grown ears "I won't be for any longer if it's true!" - "WHAT should be true?" Sam insists, barely retaining her impatience towards her friend.   
"I haven't... ya know... gotten company... you understand...?"  
"You haven't what?!" Sam isn't sure she's got what her friend is saying.   
"You know... It's too long since... I'm overdue!" It takes a moment for Samantha to process what she just heard. But then, with a delay that seemed an eternity to Chrissie, her eyes widen in shock.   
"Jesus fucking Christ! You must be kiddin' me!" But Chrissie has yet started crying. "How did you let that happen?! I mean, you did use protection, didn't you? DIDN'T YOU???" Unfortunately the expression on the younger girl's face tells her the opposite. "Are you completely outta your mind? You did NOTHING? And he was just fine with it? YOU were just fine with it?"  
"I ... I ... didn't think... I couldn't ... Didn't assume this could happen by only one time!" Chrissie brings out in between hysterical sobs, dangerously close on the verge of hyperventilating. Sam closes the small gap between them and pulls the crying girl in a tight embrace. "Shhhh... don't cry. We need a test to be sure. And even if it's true there's nothing that can't be fixed. Where's your purse? No fuck it, you stay here. I'll get over to Walmart and buy a test. Or two. You calm down! I'll be right back, okay?" She barely notices her friend's nod before hightailing out of the apparently empty house. Fate is on her side as she gets the required, covered up with some sweets and magazines, and makes it through the checkout unseen by any familiar face.   
Once back at the Clearwater's residence, Chrissie has at least calmed down a bit.   
They check the instructions on the leaflet, then Chrissie vanishes to the bathroom.   
"Are you done?" Sam shouts at the wooden door as soon as she hears the toilet flush. "Yeah, you can come in!"  
Sam sees the little white stick rest on the counter of the sink and goes over to wrap her arms around Chrissie, who is sitting on the edge of the tub. "How long?"   
"About three weeks I guess. And it's always been reliable. I didn't even pay attention at first."  
"That's not good, baby."   
"No, not at all."  
At least, Chrissie can't help but think, she knows his name. And she thinks he doesn't do one-night-stands too often. He'd taken Sam and her up to Target after a quick cup of coffee the next morning and their goodbye was quite awkward, as if he wasn't sure what to say. Hands shoved in his pockets and head ducked away. Sam had finally pulled her away in the direction where she'd parked her car the previous day. "Thanks for all, and greet your brother!" She had told him with the attempt of a sexy wink. It had remained an attempt as probably both girls looked a mess, but Sam and her looks were way worse off in the first place, even without the direct sunlight from straight above. 

"You think it's long enough?" Chrissie asks Sam after a while. "Shall I take a look?" Sam asks back instead of an answer. Chrissie nods, barely noticeable. Sam stands up and has just reached out for the test as Chrissie calls her back. "Dont!"she shouts.  
"But why? Denial won't have it undone!" Sam frowns at her and without further intent of going on with a discussion she grabs the stick.   
"Is it... positive...?"   
Chrissie doesn't need an answer, she knows by the look on her friend's face. No need for words. And she slides down from the edge of the bathtub until she comes to rest on the pink mat and buries her face in her hands.   
Her world has just fallen apart.   
She is seventeen and pregnant.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Chrissie's first day back at school was like running the gauntlet. All the girls, it seemed to her, were whispering as soon as she had passed by. Usually almost everybody greeted her, today silence spread where she was walking and coversations stopped at her sight. She caught herself several times shielding her still flat belly from courious sights with her hand. After a few minutes already she had lowered her head, making her way from her locker to the classroom as fast as possible. Boys, however, ignored her mostly, except for Oliver Moore. He was a tall and muscular boy, always engaged in sports of any kind. He did well at school and his and Samantha's parents were distant related. For it was a private school, all of the students' parents were acquainted in one way or another. At this school the courses for the students' lifes were set at an early stage.   
Oliver rushed towards her like he always did when he saw her. Usually he smiled, a false smile, that didn't hide his intentions towards her. This time however, he was frowning and looking at her with a pity, as faked as any emotions before.   
"Chrissie! How are you? Please, can we have some private talk? I'll be there for you, you know?"  
"Yes, thank you." Chrissie gave back in a distant tone. "But there's no need for that, okay? I'm not your desired princess anymore. You can go look for someone else."  
"But Chrissie! How could I? You really think I don't care about you? After all this time? Chrissie, I love you! I told you! With or without baby!"  
Chrissie scoffed "Allright, please stop it now. We all know that all you're interested in is my last name. It was from our first encounter. I'm used goods now, so you even got a reason to have yourself an easy way out. No harm to your reputation, though."  
And with that she left him standind with dropped jaw in the hall and continnued to her classroom. Valentina already waited for her. She was some kind of best friend to her and had settled with what was expected from girls from good families. They never had girl's talk like she had with Sam.   
To be honest Chrissie was only friends with her due to the lack of other possibilities. Whenever Chrissie had only mentioned the word SEX, she had burst out giggling, not even contemplating something like premarital sex. Some making out at prom night, maybe. But nothing beyond second base. She was born at the wrong decade and she deep inside knew it. Polka dots and permanent waves would've been perfect for her.   
Chrissie had given her a call just the previous day and updated her quickly on the new circumstances.   
As expected, Valentina had been thouroughly shocked, picking up the thought of rape instantly, as she couldn't imagine in her wildest dreams that Chrissie would throw away something as precious as her virginity to the next running-up guy. They had settled a private talk for that same day just after school. Chrissie wasn't too sure yet what to tell her. Valentina and her sister Rachel had joined her and Sam at that unholy bonfire nearly three months ago but had ran away scared as soon as the first men had shown their interest, despite the agreement the girls had made beforehand, not to go elsewhere on their own.   
The arguement resulting from their behaviour, added to the fact that Chrissie had felt so much more mature after her night taming that feral Daryl Dixon, had them stop talking until the previous day. Chrissie could tell Valentina already had known about the rumours regarding the Clearwater's daughter. Chrissie hated the fact that to most people she was nothing but that. The teachers however seemed to have been filled in yet and also been ordered to waste no words on that topic. She would have to thank her father later on.   
Valentina and her drove to the Clearwater's house after school and were welcomed by Mrs Clearwater as warm as always but eventually the mood stayed low. After lunch the girls had retreated to Chrissie's room and that was when her personal hell had started. Not only did Valentina not believe that it had really been Chrissie's first time, not even trying to hide her presumptions of Chrissie's colorful lovelife, but in her narrow-minded brain she had even made out stories about how Chrissie's acting might impact her own, perfect reputation.   
It all eventually led to a crying Chrissie and a leaving Valentina. Chrissie had always known their friendship was only based on the fact that their families had been friends and trading partners for as long as they could remember, but was utterly shocked as their friendship was to be ended about something like a lost virginity gone wrong.   
Fuck it, she thought to herself. First of all she still had Sam, and on the other hand she had always been fine by herself, too.   
She went through the students' list and finally called Tara, one of the least popular girls. If everything was about her last name she could still use it to get her entries and papers she'd missed while not being at school. She was determined to do as good at school as possible. She'd even try and attend college. She would provide for her baby. If fate had it that she was to be a mother, then be it. Thank God she had her family.


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

Andrea Harrison heard loud voices outside her office, shouting and discussing in a raised tone. Curiously she peeked around the corner. Without having him ever seen him before she instantly recognized Merle Dixon. In the same manner he'd tried to be flirty when he'd first called her he was now leaning at, or rather over, the counter at the entrance of her chambers. He was just about to cut his teeth at her secretary Jessica, a stubborn raven-head with her own preferences, namely men, cigarettes and straightforwardness. The latter even to be shown in a manfully punch if she was attacked at the fourth of her preferences, namely her pride.  
Right now she tried incredibly hard to maintain her composure and eventually failed. "Okay ASSHOLE! Get your fucking ass outta my sight!"  
"Aaaah! C'mon sugartits! So we know we both is good with words! So why not try something else?" Just right in time Jess spotted Andrea  
"Andrea! Please! This is cruel! Either have him leave or allow me to shoot him!"  
Andrea couldn't help but smile, but this only had Merle draw the next conclusion  
"Yeaah, I see! I'm already claimed ain't I?"  
"Charming as I expected, Mr Dixon!" Andrea still smiled at him. She had absolutely no idea where to place this kinda guy. "Won't you come over to my office?"  
"Sure as hell I do! We sure gonna have some good private talk, if you know what I mean!" He winked Jessica goodbye and finally turned to Andrea.  
"You still got that rifle in there, do you? Just in case?" Jess shouted after them as the door closed behind them.  
She and the other secretary looked at one another in disbelief, shaking their heads. 

"Allright, Mr Dixon, the door is closed now, you can turn down a gear. Or two."  
Andrea waved her hand towards the customer chair in front of her desk. She wasn't willing to spend more time than necessary with this man. She skipped the offer of something to drink and started straight.  
"I've only got a few questions. First of all, have you witnessed the encounter of your brother with Miss Clearwater?"  
"Sure as hell I did!"  
"And did you have any thoughts it wasn't mutual?"  
"Nah, none. They had coffee together the morning after. Had them a ride to their car even. Them two chicks, that is."  
"I get it you're talking about Samantha Lawrence?"  
"Could've been her name. Can't remember though. Red-headed witch, that girl." Merle grinned back.  
Andrea sighed deeply. "Okay, just yes or no please, I haven't got all day.  
You had company that night, too, is that correct?"  
"Yes Ma'am Drill Sargent!"  
Andrea rolled her eyes but went on.  
"And that girl's name was Samantha?"  
"Hmmmmm."  
"Could you identify that girl and vice versa if confronted?"  
"Well, if the light is dim enough and..."  
"MISTER DIXON! Your brother is in jail right now and I'm trying hard to get him out there! Could you PLEASE show at least a minimum of decency and help me with this?"  
"Allright, I get that. Ain't no stupid, ya know?" Merle finally relented. "Yes, I spent the night with that redhead friend of Chrissie Clearwater. Name's Sam, but don't know nothing more. Would prolly recognize her again. No hints on anything against her will. Chrissie's, that is... and even less the ginger." he grinned again suggestive.  
"Thank you." Andrea had no intention to go further into detail and made a note.  
"Your brother told me you brought a certain amount of money to the family by his request. Is that correct?"  
Merle rolled his eyes. "Fuck yeah. Hadn't done this mahself, just so ya know! The folks drowning from cash anyhow. Brought them all there was. $ 700,- in total. Hope it'll last a while. Can't none of us gather money 'till this is over, ya know?"  
Andrea was afraid to know exactly what that meant regarding Merle Dixon. He'd have to suspend whatever criminal acts he usually underwent instead of working unless he planned on risking a hopefully soon release of his little brother.  
She made another note.  
They proceeded through the remaining points of the report and Andrea had him swear over and over again not to talk at court unless questioned.  
This man was a real piece of work.

Her next appointment, about half an hour after Merle Dixon had left -Andrea had made sure there wouldn't be any encounters to cause trouble eventually- a deeply concerned Samantha Lawrence was sitting in front of her.  
"Yes, I was with Merle that night. Already told my parents, too. But please, don't let that get out to public. Otherwise I will do whatever is needed, okay?"  
Andrea smiled slightly at the concerned girl in front of her.  
"Well, luckily this isn't about you being pregnant..."  
"Sure as heck no!" Samantha interrupted "I just can't believe Chrissie could be so stupid! I think she hasn't proceeded this up to now, but this will ruin her life for the most part."  
She scoffed before going on "You know, I think this was her first time. Think her hormones bolted off with her. Luckily she's a strong person. She will get close to the verge of breaking, but she'll survive. She has her family. And it's just a baby, right? Any other decision could make her have breakdown, but not a kid."  
Andrea raised her eyebrows at her words but inquired further "How sure are you this was her first time? Did she tell you?"  
Sam waved off "No, she wouldn't tell me. But I get it from how she responds to certain things. You know what, that Daryl Dixon is just a poor guy. Being at the wrong place at the wrong time. I don't doubt their intercourse was mutual. And Chrissie won't say any different. Anyhow- is there a chance not to meet Merle Dixon again?"  
Andrea was a little surprised by her demand, but tried not to show.  
"Excuse me, but I need to know your reasons on that one. It could possibly change the outcome of the whole trial."  
But Samantha shook her head "No, it won't. It's just that I've... known Merle before. I think he doesn't remember me, but I couldn't stand facing him again sober. I had a, well, similar experience with him some years earlier. Seems I've got a tendency to self-destruction, allright?"  
Flabbergasted, Andrea dropped her pen. Was there some kind of secret society of distinguished girls trying to push the limits?  
"I'm sorry but I have to ask this, but were you pregnant, too? Or what kind of similar are we talking about?"  
Sam curtly buried her face in her hands, then quickly raised her head again to face the lawyer.  
"Yes, I was. But I didn't tell him. I owned a fake ID at this time, so I was given the chance to make a decision of my own. That night was for me... like setting the record straight, okay? Like refurbish the past. And I did. But I couldn't stand facing him again by daylight. Having him possibly recognize me at last. I've never told anybody about this. And I intend to stick to it. Okay?"  
Andrea only nodded. Then made a note about personal reasons and escorted the girl to the door.  
Back in her office she briefly checked her Outlook, then pulled the bottom drawer and took a sip of the Whiskey stored there for opportunites like this. And then two more, just to be sure.


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

Andreas conversation with the Clearwater's lawyer wasn't too good. Although she'd doubted anybody else would get the mandate, Susan Hammersmith seemed even harder than she had remembered. They had met in court before, and although their lifes had been quite similar eventually, their intentions couldn't be any different. Andrea loved to help and partially wasn't even sure if she shouldn't change to into a more social profession. Susan however was tough, even feared by some of her male colleagues. She seemed determined to do justice to her hard elaborated reputation by sending Daryl Dixon to jail.   
All Andrea was left to hope was the idea of Chrissie telling the truth.

~~~~~~~~

Daryl woke up early that fateful morning, numb and phlegmatic after days full of silence and absence of any social interaction apart from the food brought to him by yet another guard. The concrete walls, the safety light and, above all, his thoughts, his mind going round in circles over and over again on that one very topic.  
Surreality had taken over. He didn't sleep too much, nightmares haunting him. He'd been seven years old again and his father beat him, he'd felt his back hurt and the blood drip from his busted skin. The other night his father had tried and kill a faceless baby that was crying its heart out, and Daryl hadn't been able to move. Helplessly he'd stood, frozen in place and watched his fathers belt go down on the newborn's crib with the all too familiar sound of leather cutting air. It's for the best, Will Dixon had told him, and he would fix it for Daryl's own good. Daryl had jumped from his sleep, sweating and panting, every so often until he had decided to stay awake. Sitting halfway on the bunk bed, he'd dozed off from time to time, but due to pure will power had managed to have his sleep stay as shallow as not to bring any more fears to the surface.   
Daryl had finally been allowed to take a shower the previous day. Now he dressed in the same ripped jeans he'd worn for his visit at the Clearwater's.  
He had washed it in the sink of his cell some days earlier and had silently thanked his brother for thinking ahead and packing up his black button up shirt. He looked ridiculous, he thought to himself, but this sure as hell wasn't a beauty pageant to be won. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Daryl sat, handcuffed, next to his attorney while the remaining participants came to the courtroom. His brother was sitting behind him and had only nodded towards Daryl as he had entered the room. He'd doubtlessly been ordered to have his mouth shut unless questioned. The Clearwater family had taken their seats in the opposite corner, avoiding eye contact, and so did the Dixon's.   
He didn't even bother about the outcome any more, he just wanted it to be over.

~~~~~~~~~~

Daryl was shifting uncomfortably on the chair in the witness stand.  
"So you're telling us, it hardly ever happens you to take home a woman for the night, is that correct?" Susan Hammersmith asked him now in unconcealed disbelief, although Daryl had just told her what had happened.   
"Objection!" Andrea shouted, "This has no relevance on the case!"  
"Yes it has." her opponent insisted, "It's about Mr Dixon's credibility."   
The judge, an elderly woman, frowned slightly, but as she wanted to have this ended as soon as possible, she overruled Andreas objection.  
"I just told ya! Ya come here, tell me to say the truth and shit and when I do you keep askin' the same fuck again!" Daryl propped his hands to the bench and focused the opposing lawyer. He didn't even try to hide how pissed he was.  
"Mr Dixon, I won't tolerate you cursing in my court again! If you carry on with your outbursts I have no problem on imposing a fine!" the judge sternly told him.  
Daryl pushed back in his seat, shaking his head, but furthermore remained silent.   
"Will you please answer the question?"  
"No Ma'am, I don't do that, usually, godd... for goodness sake!"   
"And why don't you do alike? Are you probably more attracted to men?"  
Andrea didn't even get a chance to object this time before Daryl had jumped to his feet to curse at the woman in front of him "Go fuck yourself, bitch! Fuck off! Ain't no goddamn fag...!"  
"Mister Dixon!" The judge slammed her gavel to the bench. "I sentence you to a fine of $100,-!"   
"Allright, thank you." Susan nodded towards her, then took a step towards Daryl. "And at that very night, however, you decided, nonetheless, to take home a complete stranger and to have unprotected intercourse without reassurance about her age and in absolute disregard of diseases or unplanned pregnancy?"   
Daryl fell back to his chair and buried his face in his hands before facing her again, his voice hoarse with backheld anger.  
"Ya think I'm stupid, huh? Ain't like there was no talking at all! Can't do nothing more but ask! Can't do nothing about it no more! Go ahead! Sentence me to whatever you planned on in the first place!" And he slammed his flat hands to the bench before leaning back in surrender.   
"Mr Dixon, would you please answer the question?" The judge stepped in once again.   
"The question?" Daryl focused her angrily "Yes, Ma'am, I did. I had unprotected sex with a complete stranger on that very night. Just like us lowlifes do. Allright?"

~~~~~~~~~~~

"Miss Clearwater, how are you today?" Andrea started off with her own interrogation.   
"Thank you Ma'am, I'm fine." Chrissie timidly responded, gaze lowered and facing the bench her baby's father had just slammed his hands to.   
"You are aware of the fact that any untruth or left out detail might have a big impact on the ruling, are you?"   
"Yes Ma'am."  
"Allright, thank you." Andrea took two steps back and halfway turned to Daryl sitting at the lawyers' desk.  
"Is this, Daryl William Dixon, the man you spent the night with on July 22nd?"  
Chrissie's gaze curtly flickered to the tired and exhausted man focusing her with narrowed eyes and ashamed she instantly looked back down at her folded hands.  
"Yes Ma'am."  
"Daryl Dixon just told us that the whole intercourse beetween you was mutual and there was no violence or force of any kind. Is that correct?"  
"Yes, Ma'am."  
"He also told us you were lying at him by claiming to be 18 years old and using contraception, namely the pill. Is that correct?"  
Chrissie's eyes shimmered with tears as she slumped in her chair und ducked her head.   
"Yes Ma'am." She exclaimed with breaking voice.   
"Thank you, Miss Clearwater. No further questions."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"The plaintiff claims sole custody and child support in the amount of $300,- per month once the child is born. Furthermore he demands to sentence the defendant to prison for one year without suspend for having intercourse with a minor irrespective of any alleged mutuality."  
Susan Hammersmith read aloud. This wouldn't get her extra credits, not after the answers Chrissie had given despite for all the phrases she had taught her beforehand, she could tell, but she would try. William Clearwater surely paid well and she was one to comply agreements.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Daryl had rosen from his seat as requested, hands folded.   
"I hereby grant that the defendant must maintain a distance of at least 100 ft from Christine Sharon Clearwater and their child, once it is born, unless it is to hand over child support money.   
The child support will be set at the amount of $250,- per month and be adjusted if applicable to new circumstances like raised income of the defendant.   
The defendant will have no right to apply for joint custody once the child is born.  
The sentence for having intercourse with a minor will be put up for three years of probation and will be influenced by facts like regularly paid installments.   
The case is hereby closed."

Daryl's head had snapped up by the last few words. Eyes widened in diebelief, he had turned around to face his brother. They looked at each other and couldn't help but laugh. Relieved. The handcuffs were taken from him and he stood awkwardly frozen in place until Andrea showed him with a nod that he was free to go. The Dixon's embraced each other, Merle patted Daryl's back when suddenly raised voices from the opponents' side of the room had them turn their heads, just in time to see Chrissie stride over.   
Daryl instinctively took a step back, all too aware of the just set distance to be kept up, when Chrissie streched out her hand, holding an envelope.   
"I just thought you should get this." she handed it to Merle and instantly turned on her heel.   
The brothers looked after her confused until she had vanished, together with her family. Only Charlie threw Daryl one last glance, one that had Daryl shiver.   
Once outside the courtroom, Merle had his attention to the envelope and ripped it open. Both of the brothers curiously peeked at the black and white picture in Merle's hand.   
"What's that?" Daryl finally asked.   
"I dunno, prolly that ultrasound picture thing. Must be the baby up there." Merle replied and tapped his finger to the darkest spot.   
"Expert speaking, huh?" Daryl poked his brother. "Lucky not." Merle winked back. "Wanna keep it?"  
"Don't care. Keep it for yourself." Daryl waved off. "It's time to go home."   
"Sure thing, little brother."


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

After several days of drinking Daryl had come to the conclusion that work didn't only provide money, one which he exigently needed, but also kept him from going insane. He couldn't stand his hungover face in the mirror anymore. And even less the shaking hands of his brother in the mornings, some he handn't realized before. He had to get out.   
He didn't bother to go back to Ed Peletier as he knew for sure there was nothing to be expected. Luckily he never left any personal belongings at a workplace, for he always contemplated a quick getaway to become useful.   
The other garage, just at the outskirts of the next bigger town didn't hire and the boss of another one, even further way, told him outright that they had no need for criminals.   
Daryl had expected Will Clearwater's influence to be strong and he was angry towards himself for not expecting him to work against in the first place, but he knew, that if he wouldn't be able to find work and pay these goddamn 250 bucks each and every month for the next 18 years at least he would be sentenced to jail.   
Yes, this was what Will planned on, didn't he?  
Daryl was more than aware of the fact that without a proper education and credentials close down to nothing this was most likely to happen.   
His brother had told him from the moment they left the courthouse to pack their stuff and run. North of Atlanta he said, good and easy money could be made.   
But Daryl had insisted. For whatever reason.   
Now, after applying for what seemed the shittiest jobs on earth for days and weeks, the thought was more than tempting, though. 

Then, finally, luck had been on Daryl's side as he'd gathered a job at a garage of the next town south. A man named Dale had mustered him intensely, then asked him outright about his motivations.   
Daryl had been close to the verge of breaking, so he decided to try the truth.   
"Sir, I'm gonna be honest. Been sentenced to pay child support. Need this job plus a second to survive. Have to pay rent and all. Please lemme try, ok? I gonna show ya I do good work!"  
Mister Horvath was surprised by his answer but had decided that the will to pay for a child wasn't too common anymore nowadays, and so he'd given him a chance. As it had turned out, Daryl didn't only show up for every shift, he also did decent work and always came in earlier and left later than settled.   
Dale had even helped him get the much desired second job, filling shelves and cleaning the floors at the local supermarket before and after opening times.   
He'd been offered a cashier's job even, but had to decline due to his criminal record. He had made sure both of his employers had known everything about him to avoid any bad surprises.   
And so he had been working his ass off for about six months now. Had managed to pay the rent, the installments from the previous trial and keep some up for whatever shit may come.   
Doing his math Daryl had realized that the two installments would only overlap for about three months or so, and therefore he was in good mood.   
250,- was just a little more than what he got for his second job and Dale paid him better than Ed Peletier had ever done. He had to get up early and usually went to bed late, but he still had most of the weekends for himself to go hunting and leave the world behind.  
Merle had remained all the same. Did his shady jobs, brought home girls, did drugs, with or without them.   
One friday night only, when Daryl had fallen asleep on the couch after a hard week's work, Merle had come home even more drunken than normaly and ripped him from his sleep.  
"Hey! Baby brother! Ya don't guess whom I met today? Huh?"  
Daryl wasn't interested in the slightest in what bitch Merle had fucked in the backseat of his truck.  
"Merle, goddamnit! Shut it! Lemme sleep! Tell me tomorrow! Or even better, don't tell me at all. I don't fucking care!" And with that he gathered up from the old cushions, stumbled to his room and slammed the door shut. The next day Merle seemed to have forgotten about his meetup and Daryl didn't ask anymore.   
It was until the middle of the following week that Daryl had his own kind of encounter. He had just finished working on a old Ford and was looking forward onto the cigarette break Dale had approved twice a day. As Daryl usually didn't take a real lunch break apart from this, he savoured these five minutes deeply. But he was torn off his anticipation by the unhealthy sound of a stuttering engine.   
He peeked around the corner and saw a big truck standing in front of the garage. Dale had already went outside to check and so Daryl went back to the workshop. He didn't bother to go smoking anymore as he was sure he'd be called for the car. The other mechanic working for Dale besides himself had finished early that day as his wife was pregnant and he wanted to join her for a doctor's appointment. Daryl had made clear from the first day Jim had started telling him about how happy he was to become a daddy that there was hardly anything in the whole damn world that he either wanted to talk about or experience himself. Dale seemed to have kept Daryl's motivations to himself and Daryl was just grateful for that.   
"Daryl! Could you please come over? This truck don't want to do as it's told!"  
"Yeah sure! Hold on!" Daryl shouted back as he went for the office. "What's up?"   
Dale smiled at the greasy boy in front of him, for a boy he was, in his opinion. Despite his 26 years of age he resembled much more a teenager than a grown man. Dale could tell Daryl's life hadn't been easy up to now, but he wasn't one to judge. He trusted him and even had him bring his cash to the bank from time to time. In return, Dale had become quite a fatherly figure to him albeit Daryl would have never admitted it.   
"We've got that young lady here and she's afraid she won't make it home. Could you take a look, please?"  
"Yeah sure." Daryl gave back and was just about to round the corner to the waiting area when his eyes widened in surprise. He stopped in his tracks and gasped for air as he recognized whom was sitting there, cradling her swollen belly.   
Christine Clearwater.   
Daryl took a quick step back, almost stumbling over his own feet, while trying hard to remember how far the distance was he had to keep.   
Dale looked up in surprise by the unusual behaviour of his employee.  
"Hey, what's up?"   
Daryl's face mirrored deep confusion, shock and even fear as he finally turned and stormed off, stammering an incoherent excuse.   
Dale frowned, but then went over to the girl still sitting on the frayed couch at the waiting area. Her gaze resembled Daryl's, eyes widened in surprise, if not shock.   
"Hey sweetheart, what happened?"  
Chrissie took a moment to collect herself, then replied "He is... I mean, it's Daryl Dixon... it's his baby."  
Dale wasn't stupid enough not having suspected alike yet, but he just didn't get Daryl run away like he did.   
"So you two aren't... too good together, hm? What a pity."   
Chrissie shook her head no   
"No Sir, it ain't like that. We... don't really know each other. And Daryl has been sentenced to keep a distance from me... us, that is."  
"Oh." was all Dale was able to reply.   
Why would he have to stay at distance? Did he beat her? Hurt her? It took him a moment to regain his composure. "Well okay, we can deal with that. If you don't mind to wait for a moment, I will go look after Daryl, make sure he didn't do something unconsidered. I can assure, the necessary distance will be kept as your car will be fixed, allright?"  
"I don't care about the distance, I won't tell anybody." Chrissie whispered back, but Dale had already left the office.


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

"Daryl! Hey! Daryl! Where are you?" Dale rounds the corner just outside the backdoor of the workshop, where Daryl is usually to be found for his cigarette breaks. And his lunch break. And technically every time he doesn't spend at or under any vehicle. Which isn't much, admittedly.  
Daryl has his back to him and Dale can see his hand, in which he now holds a cigarette, is trembling.   
"Hey..." Dale speaks as softly as he can, "It's okay. You can go home, if you want. I won't blame you. I can fix that car myself, okay?"   
Daryl doesn't respond at first. He just shakes his head, then finally turns around.   
Dale faces him with raised eyebrows as he catches his gaze. Daryl is crying. Corners of his mouth turned downwards, tears dripping down his cheeks, and he tries to wipe them away with an angry move of his free hand, which has the dirt that has accumulated on his face over the day smeared all across.   
"Ya seen that?" he asks his boss, waving his hand towards the building, "Ya seen what I did to that girl, huh? That's on me. Was my fault. Always mess up. Can't do nothing right. That kid gonna grow up with an asshole for its father. Or rather without any father at all. Better kick me out. Can't do any good."  
Dale feels the overwhealming urge to hug the greasy boy in front of him, but as he noticed him flinch at the slightest touch beforehand, he just remains standing in front of him, letting sink his already rosen hand again.  
"Daryl! Stop blaming you! You do as right as you can at this point. I don't wanna hear anything about it, this is none of my business. But I know what I see. The probably best employee I've ever had. You can do it right. I know it. Go to my office. You're off duty for today. I'll fix that car and then we'll have a talk. If you would like to. Okay?" Daryl has his head hung low, eyeing Mr Hortvath through his now longer bangs. "No, sir, thank you."   
Dale sighs as he gets it Daryl is speaking of their conversation, but is told otherwise. "I'm gonn' fix that car. Won't sit 'round in a room useless. Y'dont pay me fo' chillin 'round. Just can't be near her, 'kay?" he mumbled.   
"Allright." Mr Horvath gives in. "I'll look after your... uhm... the girl in the meanwhile."  
Daryl nods, mouth now drawn to what is supposed to be some kind of smile. He takes another drag from his cigarette before flipping it to the ground. "Keys in the car?" He asks over his shoulder while heading back inside, not bothering about an answer. Dale follows him as he wents for the car and walks back to the office himself. The girl is waiting at the front desk, a concerned look darkening her otherwise beautiful features, and he invites her to his office where she slowly sinks down to the armchair available for customers, holding her belly and straightening her obvious hurting back. She must be eight months along at least.  
"Miss, if it is okay with you, I'd get you some refreshment and maybe some cushion to make yourself comfortable. I'll stay here with you until your car is done, make sure to comply with the regulations, okay? As far as I get it, nobody did anything wrong and you're allright?"   
He is referring to the situation, but Chrissie bursts out laughing.   
"If you say so, Sir! But I think I get what you mean!" She is still chuckling when she tells him "It's all fine by me. Have no reason to tell anybody. My car had a problem, I had it fixed... nothing else to talk about. Okay?"  
"Thank you." Dale replies, and both of them know how much trouble this could cause Daryl if she only wanted. 

Dale brings her some iced tea and magazines and truly didn't expect she wants to talk, but she does.  
"Mister Dale?" She starts off and Dale smiles softly as usually only children mistake his first name for his last.  
"Yes, Miss?" He peeks over the rim of his rimless glasses.  
"Could you maybe... I mean... give him a message from me? Daryl, that is?"  
"Yeah, sure. Whatever there is."  
"I... uhm... want him to know it's gonna be a boy. And I never wanted to sue him. I'm sorry for what happened. Well, actually not sorry for what happened, but the way it did. I'm quite happy to become a mom now. And I could leave my number, so he could call if he wants. I could even send pictures. I mean, if he's interested. I'm fine if he's not." She's smiling sheepishly as she realizes she's been rambling. 

"Yes, I am."

Both of them jump as none of them has heard him come in. He's standing in the doorframe, straight, arms crossed in defend. 

"Daryl! I almost got a heart attack!" Dale scolds him.  
"Yeah... well I'm sorry. Just wanted you to know it's one of the ignition coils. Will be 'bout 250 bucks in total. Is that ok?"  
Chrissie is unsure how much of the talk he has overheard, so she only states "Yes, of course. But I don't have enough cash here, maybe you could get me the bill and I'll have my father pay it?"  
Daryl scowls at the thought of William Clearwater, but remains silent.   
Dale nods towards him to confirm, and without another word he leaves.  
"So it seems your car had good intentions bringing you here, hm?" Dale says and finally puts his glasses down.   
"Certainly looks like it." Chrissie says and smiles.


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25

By the time Chrissie leaves, Daryl is standing at the far corner of the main building, keeping as much of a distance as possible.  
He's dugged his head, hands shoved in his pockets. None of them dares to do something else, wave or at least nod.   
Daryl remains standind there even as the red Clearwater truck has long vanished out of sight.   
Dale slowly walks over to him and doesn't comment on the newly lit up cigarette hanging from Daryl's mouth. He knows he's not supposed to smoke where customers can see.  
"So this is your baby's mother."  
Dale says, more a statement than a question.  
"Fucking looks like it."  
"You know, you don't owe me an answer..."  
But Daryl interrupts him, waves off, with the cigarette held between thumb and index finger.   
"She's nothing but seventeen. Or maybe eighteen by now. Dunno. Was my fault. All of this. 'M lucky they didn't lock me away. Have to pay they say. And I will. But have no rights, they say. 'S better anyway. Never wanted be no father."   
He tells his boss, avoiding his stare.   
And after a short glance he adds "Sorry 'bout this. Won't happen again. Like drama 'n stuff, okay?"  
Dale shakes his head "Nothing to apologize for. You fixed a car. Haven't seen nothing more."   
And he turns to leave.  
As Daryl is done with his shift he finds a Post-it note pinned to his locker. A number. No name.   
He places it on the inside of the locker door, which is empty except for it. No pictures, no naked women.   
He has no time to think of this now, he's still got another job to do. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Hey Darleena! 'Bout fucking time you got home! We've got company! It's Charlene and Courtney!" Merle's raspy voice welcomes him at the door as Daryl comes home in the dark after piling up what must have been two tons of oranges and other fruits, some of which he can't even name. The room is already filled with smoke, thick as fog. Empty and crashed beercans are spread across the floor.   
"Hmmmm" Daryl replies absentmindedly as he grabs for a slice of pizza in the open box on the couchtable.   
He is tired only and wants to sleep and forget about the day, but his brother grabs his arm an pushes him down to the couch.   
"Hey! Courtney! Come 'ere!" He tells a bleached blonde tangle while himself pulls a disshelved ravenhead closer.   
"Mah brother needs some easing! If ya know what I'm talking about!" And he roars with laughter.   
Courtney approaches him, sitting down at the armrest. "Hey" she says, her face only inches apart of Daryl's.   
He raises his eyebrows at her but doesn't stop her from travelling her fingers down his chest. He inhales sharply as she arrives at his crotch, fingertips caressing the fabric of his jeans just enough to send a shiver through his lower body.   
He weights his options. For whatever reason he has purchased condoms just a few days after his encounter with Chrissie. In retrospect he'd wondered if it had been some kind of premonition on the things to come, and therefore his own subconscious way to deny it.   
Now he is glad those are in the first drawer of his nightstand as he turns his face to Courtney and within seconds has her tongue in his mouth, kissing him eagerly. Daryl feels no regret to fall back into old patterns. He turns to her completely, grabbing her thigh with his one hand while the other still holds the slice of pizza. With one movement he pulls Courtney down the armrest up onto him and throws the pizza back to where it came from.   
She's sitting on top of him, giggling with a hoarse voice, and Daryl can't help but think, girls like her are made for guys like him. Yes, he thinks, this is what they are supposed to do. "Yeah..." he says aloud, looking up to her "Hell yeah, baby."  
And as Courtney pushes her hips down on him he grabs her with both hands and pulls her closer, lifting her up with one smooth motion and lies her down to the cushions, swapping their positions. Before he settles in between her thighs, he makes sure to take a big gulp of Merle's beer standing on the table. His brother doesn't notice as at that very moment his eyes are focused on the black bunch of hair both of his hands are shoved into, belonging to a woman kneeling in front of him, giving head.   
Daryl leans down to Courtney, eagerly and roughly kissing her, pushing himself against her, moaning with all the accumulated lechery of the past months, paired with anger towards himself for doing alike again.   
He gives a fuck how the woman beneath him feels, he wants to use her for his satisfaction, no matter what.   
But he won't fuck her here under the eyes of his brother, so he lifts her up and carries her to his room, instantly reminded of how he did the last time with Chrissie. But he shoves the thought away, won't tolerate that girl to take hold of him in any way.   
Emotionless and cold he drops the woman to his bed, facing her smile and her anticipation with squinted eyes while he remains standind and with one quick movement undoes his belt, dropping pants and boxers quickly, before climbing onto the blonde slut that has already gotten rid of her own clothes.   
He is about to enter her wet, shaved entrance, as he changes his mind and flips her over and smacks her ass with his flat hand, fiercefully and making her cry out loud.   
He hasn't spoken one single word to her, and he can tell she slowly gets uncomfortable.  
"Daryl? What are you doing? Will you be nice to me, please?" She cooes the best she can, but it won't hide the timid swing in her voice. She is afraid of him. And he feels it. It's what he wants right now.  
He remains silent as he forces her legs apart with his knee, pressing her down to the bed with one hand.   
He wants to take advantage of her, he wants a woman to pay for what a woman did to him.   
And he does.  
He thrusts into her, making her cry out loud, pleading for him to stop. But he can't hear her. He fucks her, hard, mounts her and fills her cunt with his stone hard cock.  
Again, again and again. He's sweating, panting, but no word, almost no sound at all escapes from his lips as he works on her, for work it is, a job to be done, taking her by vengeance.   
He doesn't care about the condom any more, his world has gone to shit already.   
Then her voice makes its way to his mind, muffled and low, but nonetheless perceptible. She cries, she curses at him, yelling at him to stop. And he stops.   
He rolls off of her, awakes from his stupor.   
Rolls on his back and buries his face in his hands. The girl practically flees from him, crawling to the opposite corner of the bed and grabs the blanket to cover her bareness. She's crying, sobbing and her makeup runs down her face in wet, black streaks.   
"I'm sorry."   
It's all he can say. He is completely sober, has no explanation to offer.   
"I'm sorry." he murmurs again.   
The girl is silent now. He could handle her being angry, in rage, disappointment. But not silently sobbing as she is.   
He sits up to the edge of the bed, props his elbows to his knees and buries his face in his hands again, shaking his head, afraid of himself, his own behaviour.   
"Hey..." she says quietly. " 's okay... I can handle that. Just a little too rough, 'kay?"  
She whisperes as she crawles over towards him and touches his shoulder.   
He's not surprised. That's just like this kind of women wants to be treated. He knows it. From experience. From his brother's experience. And even from his own mother.   
"You better go."   
He tells her, and his tone leaves no room for discussion.   
"Fuck you!"   
Courtney grabs her clothes, doesn't even bother to put one single piece on before she leaves.   
Even a long time after he has heard the door shut Daryl remains sitting in the bed. He doesn't perceive the arguement out in the livingroom, the front door being slammed or the car leaving with roaring engine.   
He is just like his father. A stupid piece of shit.


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter 26

Daryl still sat at the edge of his bed when the door opened and Merle poked his head in the room. The fact that he didn't say a word at first had Daryl know it had to be bad.   
"Hey man? You gone crazy o' what?" Merle finally raised his hoarse voice.   
"Leave me alone."   
"Hell I will. You owe me 200 bucks."  
Daryl didn't even look at him when he scoffed  
"And for fucking what?"  
"That girl wanna sue you she said. Had to calm her. What for Christ's sake did you do to her, ya stupid dumbass?!"  
"I dunno."  
"You dunno what? Ya almost ripped that bitch in pieces!"  
"Can't give proof. Didn't cum. 'S what you once said." Daryl had finally raised his head and faced his brother.   
Merle was stunned, not only by this words, some of which his brother never dared to use before, but by the cold, blank expression on his face.   
"You gone crazy, right? Fuck what's wrong with you?" anger flickered over Merle's gaze. "What happened today? Dontcha think y've got enough shit going on already?"  
Daryl buried his head back to his hands. Yeah, his brother was right.   
"Met her today." he grumbled, barely audible.  
"Huh? You did what?"  
"Met that Clearwater girl today." Daryl repeated, louder now, but still facing the floor.   
"Yeah great. Hope you kept that distance. She due yet?"  
Daryl grunted "Nah, round like a knocked up balloon."  
Merle shook his head blankly "And what for fuck's sake does that have to with another raped woman, huh?"  
Within the split of a second Daryl was on his feet, choking his brother to the wall.  
"I DID NOT RAPE THAT GIRL!"  
He spat in Merle's face with gritted teeth.  
"Fuck you!" without waiting for a reply he left the room, leaving him dumbfounded.  
"Hey man hold ya horses! Could come out bad for you otherwise!" Merle yelled after him but decided to leave it at that and went to his own room. He had never seen Daryl like that before.

~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day Daryl tried hard to shove the memories of the past day away. He worked harder and more efficiently than usually. Jim was used to him barely speaking, but Dale suspected it had to do with the previous day. Which was undoubtedly correct, but for a complete different reason.   
Daryl didn't get home straight once he was done. He just roamed the streets of his small hometown on his brother's motorcycle (as Merle used to drive Daryl's truck lately). It was only when he caught sight of the bright two-story building that he knew what he'd been attracted by subconsciously.  
He shut the engine and just stood there, watching. How long until he would be a father? Days? Weeks? Never, he told himself. He didn't want that. Never did. And eventually wasn't allowed. Fuck it, he couldn't be forbidden something he'd never asked for, right?  
It was just when he catched the movement of a curtain in one of the upper windows from the corner of his eye that he awoke from his stupor. He had just turned his bike to leave when he suddenly heard a voice calling for him.  
"Dixon! What are you doing here?"  
"Fuck" he hissed, but turned his head.  
Charles Clearwater had just emerged from the building. Daryl stood frozen in place, focusing the man with squinted eyes.  
He cursed quietly as Charlie came closer. He wouldn't run. Never did.   
"What are you doing here?"  
Charlie repeated, once closer.  
"Nothing." Daryl gave back. "Just drove down this road and the house seemed familiar. 'S why I stooped. Distance's enough, ain't it?"   
Charlie cocked his head. "Yes it is. Would have called the cops otherwise, and you know it."  
Daryl nodded curtly. He turned to leave, then faced Charlie once more.   
"She good?" he asked quietly.  
"I don't know whether that's any of your business, but yes." Charlie responded and mustered him all over in a way that had Daryl freeze.   
"When she due?" The words slipped from his lips before he even knew.  
"What are you here for?" Charlie suspected "I won't tell you. You will get mail soon enough. And that's when we'll meet again. For you paying. And that's it. You didn't forget that, did you?"  
"Nah, didn't." Daryl mumbled and was just about to turn to his bike when Charlie spoke up again.   
"You'll be in serious trouble if anyone is ever told I've been there, do you get that?"  
"Huh? Been where?" Daryl raised his eyebrows in question.  
"Don't play dumb! I know your kind." Charlie hissed back, threatening.  
"Don't know whatcha talking 'bout."  
Daryl growled back, now angry. What kind of shit was that? Where had anyone been?  
"You'd better not." Charlie spat out before finally turning to leave.   
Daryl still wondered what that son of a bitch had talked about when the front door swung open and Chrissie came stumbling out with her father propping her up. Her face looked pained and William Clearwater shot an angry look towards the men standing down at the gate to the driveway. Daryl instinctively took a step back, but couldn't help but stare at the sight presented to him. The baby was about to come.   
"You better be off now!" Charlie told Daryl and headed towards his father to help get his little sister into the car, yet parked ready to leave.   
Chrissie looked up, her eyes curtly met Daryl's and his chest clenched from pain. He watched helplessly as another wave of contraction washed over her, forcing her eyes shut and making her grit her teeth in a pain way worse than anything she'd ever felt.  
He took a step back, then another, and finally turned to mount his bike to get away as quick as any possible.


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter 27 

Merle luckily wasn't home when Daryl got there. He tried to remember where he went or if he even told him, but eventually came to the conclusion that it didn't matter to him. Didn't want to talk anyway.   
He fell to the recliner and lit himself a cigarette. Then something came to his mind and he gathered up and headed for his room. It took some time for him to find the envelope in the stash of papers piled up on the shelf next to the door. There it was. The ultrasound picture.   
"CHRISTINE S. CLEARWATER, April 8th, 1979" it read.   
So she was eighteen now, at least. Likely without a big celebration as usual, but why get more than himself, he thought. His eighteenth birthday had consisted of a bottle Jack Daniel's and a visit at the local strip club. Merle had offered to pay him the night with one of these girls afterwards but Daryl had eventually been too drunk and they had to stop three times on the short ride home for him to puke his heart out. Merle had teased him for years afterwards, he remembered.   
On that ultrasound picture, however, was no clue to how far along she'd been already, nor the estimated birth date. At least not as far as Daryl could tell.   
Well, birth date was today, if he wasn't completely wrong, he thought. He walked out of his room, reached for a pen lying on the kitchen counter and made sure it would do before writing the day's date on the edge of the backside.   
Today his son would be born, April 18th, 1997.   
If he only owned a mobile phone, he thought. Then what? He scolded himself. Would write texts to that number she left? Sure as hell no. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chrissie screamed in agony. She felt like her body was ripped into pieces.   
"Breathe, baby! You gotta breathe!" The nurse told her, but she couldn't.   
Could do nothing but cry and scream.   
She'd been pushing now for what seemed an eternity. Her mother was at her side, holding her cold, clammy hand and crying with her.  
Then, finally, four hours after she'd arrived at the hospital, already in hard labor, he was there.   
He was pink, wrinkly and his tiny voice was wailing in protest.   
He was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day was a Saturday. Daryl got up early as usual and gathered together his hunting equipment. He had to get some game to fill the freezer unless he wanted to go hungry. Although he got paid better now, the way to get to his new workplace was longer and therefore he needed more fuel. Additionally came the way to and from the supermarket.   
He had just strapped his crossbow to the motorcycle and was about to start off, when he remembered he had to pay from here on out. So he headed back to the trailer to get the first of five envelopes he had prepared during the last months. 

He parked the bike in the driveway of the Clearwater residence. Instantly he saw a shadow moving in a downstairs window and so he grabbed for the envelope in his backpocket and waved with it. He didn't want tor risk to get shot. Although he doubted William Clearwater would hesitate to do so if he only wanted. Stories of eventually harmless intruders being shot by accident weren't too uncommon. At least not where he came from.   
He had just reached the porch when the door opened and he faced Chrissie's mother.   
"Hello Ma'am, don't wanna waste your time... I's just bringing the money... for the kid." Daryl mumbled, unable to meet her eyes.   
"Yes, thank you." Sharon Clearwater responded coldly.   
Daryl was about to turn on his heel when something came to his mind.  
"So... uhm... I'll be here next 18th, right?"  
He wasn't sure by which day the month was counted.   
"Yes, thank you." Mrs Clearwater repeated, a little impatient now.   
Daryl had already turned to leave when he mustered up the courage to turn back to face Chrissie's mother once more.  
"Is she... are they good?" Daryl brought out with raspy voice while he tried to avoid Mrs Clearwater's staring eyes.   
"I don't see if this is any of your business. It seems you have forgotten about the judgement already?"  
Daryl squinted his eyes. Anger flared up in his stomach. His mood seemed to reflect on his face as Sharon scoffed and hissed "I really don't think you have any right to know anything about my daughter and my grandkid." Daryl didn't miss her avoidance to name the baby's sex.   
"I know it's a boy. No need to fool me, you know?"   
Goddamnit, why did he just say that?   
Sharon Clearwater's brows instantly shot up. "How do you know that? Did you stalk her? You have no idea what trouble you're having yourself, just so you know!"  
Daryl laughed bitterly. "I don't think there's any more trouble for me than what I've already got."  
And with that he turned on his heel and left.

Daryl just couldn't decide whether to go to the biker bar where he'd most likely was to  
meet his brother or ... well, what would be the other option? He dearly wanted to go to the hospital, for some reason he just couldn't capture. He rubbed his hands over his face and decided to try.   
He wouldn't catch shit anyway with what mood he'd got.   
As he had no idea which hospital a pregnant woman would be brought to, so he simply tried the one that was closest to the Clearwater's home.

"Can I help you, Sir?" a young woman eyed him frowning as he stepped up to the reception desk. A quick glance down on himself confirmed his suspicions. He looked just as ragged as every day.   
"Yeah... uhm... I wanna visit Christine Clearwater. She had a kid yesterday."  
"Are you her husband?"   
"No... I'm... we're not... I'm just a friend."  
He tried to maneuver out of the situation nervously.   
"Will you please wait a second." the nurse replied and picked up the phone.   
Daryl shifted uncomfortably. What was he doing here? What if somebody saw him?  
"Hey, excuse me... just forget about it, okay? I'm at the wrong place I think. Sorry." he waved off uneasy while stepping back, then turned and ran out of the building.   
He panted heavily as he finally reached his bike.   
What in heavens did he just try to do?


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter 28

The next week went quietly, and Daryl was thankful for that. Had he been anxious the first couple of days that a policecar might drive up and he'd get arrested for showing up at the house and the hospital, his mood had gone back to almost normal. Which meant he was the same uncommunicative, gruff man he'd always been.   
Jim's wife was close to nine months now, which Dale had told him just the previous day. Daryl wondered if Jim was afraid of him. Why didn't he tell him himself? Had he been too harsh to him when he'd first told him about his baby-to-be? Jim was smiling whenever the topic came up, although he tried to avoid Daryl noticing it.   
Whatever, he thought to himself. It only meant he could vanish all in a sudden at every moment regardeless of what amount of work had to be finished. Daryl only hoped that kid would show the decency to wait to come to this world until the day's shift was over.   
His own kid had. If he'd been able to join, he would have made it right in time after work. But he hadn't.  
He had a son. And still, he didn't. 

It was a thursday, so Daryl knew he'd have to go to his weekly visit at his probation officer. He was something glad it was settled on thursdays, as the supermarket got delivery on tuesdays and fridays. It didn't even occur to him that the meetings could have been shifted if it was due to his working schedule, as he'd never had alike to deal with before. And hopefully wouldn't ever after. It had taken a few days for the realization to hit him like a brick that if that bitch Courtney had only wanted, he'd been locked up already. Who would have believed him? He was a sentenced rapist already. At least in the public eye. Which was, to be honest, quite what he'd done to Courtney. No need sugarcoating it.   
He tried to brush off the thoughts whirling in his head by rubbing his calloused palms over his face. 

Changing into his jeans and leather vest, Daryl's eye caught sight of the yellow post-it note inside his locker.   
"Ain't still got no mobile phone. Stop thinking 'bout it." He mumbled to himself as he slammed the door shut.  
He should honestly consider to move to another town. Maybe just the opposite direction so he could keep his jobs and have the same distance to get there.   
"Fuck it!" he cursed and slammed his fist to the light metal door, leaving a visible dent. Daryl leaned his forehead to the locker and tried to calm his breath. As he finally pushed away and turned, he nearly jumped out of his skin. Dale stood next to him with a concerned look on his face.   
"Fuck!" Daryl repeated what must have been the most used word of his vocabulary. Squinting his eyes, he had truly liked to fill the man in on his opinion about sneaking up on him, but remained silent. He knew all too well that his position was way to weak to speak up to anybody, even less to his boss, regardeless to what good opinion he might have of him.   
"Daryl, I would like to have a private talk with you. Could you please come in about twenty minutes earlier tomorrow?"  
Daryl focused him with his head dugged low. He was at full alert instantly. What good did ever come from private talks?  
"You fire me?" he croaked out, still focusing Dale from underneath the bangs of dirty, dark hair falling into his face.   
"If that's what it is, just tell me and I'll go. Won't beg, just so ya know."  
Dale looked at him surprised.   
"Daryl! No! For what reason should I dismiss you?" He focused him with a scowl, trying to read from Daryl's expression. "Why should I? You're a decent man! So as Jim!"  
"Then what?" Daryl spat out, way harsher than he had intended.   
"Nothing bad. Just be there, ok?" Dale shook his head slightly. Why in heavens would Daryl suspect he'd get fired? Dale never had any issues with him. At the few occasions when Daryl simply seemed not to know how to do it right, Dale had asked him, in a calm voice, to do it differently the next time. And Daryl had always relented.   
Even if he obviuosly didn't understand why. For example, it made no sense to him why he should smoke behind the building, and not in front of it, where he would see new customers drive up.   
"Hmmmmpf." was all he gave back now.   
"Thank you." Dale responded, then added "and please watch your tone towards me, next time, allright?"  
"Yes, Sir."

Holding his temper under control Daryl still gunned the bike's engine to good use as he tried to catch up the lost time to make it to his appointment.   
At exactly six o'clock he jumped off the motorcycle and hurried to Mr White's office in a sidewing of the big municipal building. He stopped dead when he arrived at the door, trying to catch his breath and cursing his smoking habit, one he had since his childhood.   
He knocked to the door firmly and patiently waited to be asked in. Something he'd learned the very first day he came here. He couldn't say he gave a fuck about manners, but he had to behave as good as possible to get that stamp to his file, saying it was closed and the trial was finally over.   
After hearing some incoherent words from inside, he opened the door, only to be welcomed by the sourly expression of a man close to the verge of retirement, and therefore a little less motivated than he'd probably been at a younger age, to say the least.   
"Seems your watch is counting differently than mine."  
"I'm sorry, Sir. Mah boss wanted to talk to me for a bit. Couldn't simply turn away."  
Mr White rolled his eyes in unconcealed disbelief.   
"Yes, sure. One Dollar for each time I hear that excuse and my next trip would be to Hawaii rather than my brother's hunting cabin in Virginia."  
Daryl didn't see why a hunting trip would be so bad, especially since he knew Hawaii to be some island surrouded by an ocean, which furthermore meant you had to climb on a plane to get there, but he wisely kept his thoughts to himself.   
"Take a seat." Mr White ordered and gestured towards the wooden chair at the opposite side of his desk.   
"Let's make this quick. Did you show up for work every time?"  
"Yes, Sir."  
"Did you ever call in sick, for whatever reason?"  
"No, Sir."  
"Did you drink or do drugs at any time?"  
"I drank some. At home. Last week."  
The probation officer nodded satisfied. Daryl couldn't help but wonder if this was expected of him. He was 27 years old, goddamnit. Why shouldn't he drink on occassion?   
"Did you approach Miss Clearwater for whatever reason?"   
"Yes, Sir."  
The older man's head snapped up and he focused him with squinted eyes, pulling his glasses down.   
"And may I ask for what good reason you would do so?"  
Daryl nearly scoffed. Did he really not know about the baby?   
"Because the baby's been born, Sir. Been there to bring the money."  
Mr White raised his eyebrows.   
"And how would you know that?"  
Daryl shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He hadn't thought about a credible explanation for this one.   
"Uhm... well... I happened to see her... by coincidence. That's why."  
The old man pushed back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest.  
"You're lying."  
Daryl rolled his eyes. He always knew Merle had been catched twice as much if he had Daryl's qualities in acting. Or rather to say the lack of it.   
He raised his hands in surrender.  
"I drove by the other day. But kept the distance. Always did. Just the moment they went for the car."   
Mr White bent forward warily.  
"So... Just estimated I would believe you. Of how many times are we speaking when you say 'always'?"  
"Only that one time. Just said so." Daryl tried his miserable version of a poker face, but luckily the man in front of him bought it, or at least wanted to get to his end of work for the day.   
"Alright then. You know I will call the Clearwater's to confirm this, do you?"  
"Yes, Sir."  
Mr White scribbeled down another note.  
"Then so be it. Have a nice evening."  
Once outside Daryl released the breath he didn't even know he was holding. That had been close. Too close. He definitely couldn't afford to slip.


	29. Chapter 29

Chapter 29

By the time Daryl arrived at home Merle still wasn't there. This wasn't too unusual, but just like every time Daryl worried about him probably being arrested. He knew all too well that he shouldn't worry about the cops getting him, but what he did in the first place to being chased. 

Daryl had himself some bread and cheese from the surprisingly filled fridge. Had Merle discovered some new hobbies lately?  
Looking around he also noticed the fact that the livingroom was tidied up and cleaned. Whatever drugs Merle had been taking, Daryl made a mental note, he would ask him to stick to for the future.  
Waking over to the livingroom Daryl took a first bite of cheese. He stopped. Looked at it closer. This was real cheese. Like four Dollars or something. Something was wrong with his brother, he thought. More than just the fact that he was a Dixon. 

Just as Daryl made himself comfortable in the couch, he heard some distinct sounds coming from the rear side of the trailer.  
He jumped to his feet alerted. His truck hadn't been in front of the house, so Merle couldn't be here. Who in heavens would try and break into a shithole like this? Some drug addict, maybe?  
He sneaked in the direction the sound had been coming from, grabbing his hunting knife from the kitchen counter.  
As the bathroom door was open and the door to his own only ajar, the sound had to be coming from Merle's room.  
Avoiding the creaking spot in the floor, Daryl slowly moved forward.  
Considering his options, he decided to knock. If his brother was in fact home, he might have company or at least be angry being torn from his sleep.  
He got no reply.  
That was all Daryl needed to turn the knob and push the door open, knive raised in his right hand.  
A pair of widened brown eyes met his.  
"Sumbitch! Are you fucking kidding me?!"  
Daryl brought out by the sight that was offered him.  
"Could ask you the same, dumbass!" was the reply he got from the woman standing next to the bed, trying to cover her bareness with a sheet.  
"Watcha doing in here? Where's mah brother?" Daryl belted at her. She had to be an intruder. Or Daryl had to reconsider his brother's choices in drugs.  
The woman in front of him was black as a moonless night. 

They stood silently for what seemed an eternity. Finally Daryl regained his speech.  
"What the hell are you doing here?"  
"I tried to sleep, actually. Where's Merle? Ain't he back already? You must be Daryl, right?"  
Daryl didn't bother to introduce himself and scoffed only. He'd been done with that fucking manners the day he'd left the Clearwater residence about seven months ago.  
Daryl considered to ask her why she was in his brother's room, naked. But eventually he did not only did he give a fuck, but also didn't want to get involved beyond necessity with that... Nigger bitch.  
"You must be kiddin me." he mumbled before leaving for his room and slamming the door shut.  
He flipped to his bed and pulled the pillow over his head. He was determined to leave. Some small appartement in another town. Some place where he had to deal with as little people as possible.  
The world had gone to shit... his brother fucking Niggers and he was sentenced for child support. How much crazier could the world become? Dead people walking around? A black guy becoming President of the United States?  
Daryl scoffed and rubbed the pillow over his face.  
"Ah fuck it!" He cursed, realising he had just smeared the day's dirt from his face onto the pillowcase. He quickly climbed off the bed, not wanting it to get worse.  
He removed the pillowcase, tossed it in the laundry basket in the bathroom and had just undone his belt in order to take a piss, now that he was in the bathroom anyway, that he heard the woman come in behind him.  
"Don't feel disturbed. I just gonna take a shower if you don't mind. Your brother's been a real piece of rough lately."  
"Are you fucking kidding me?!" Daryl yelled, turning around with his pants halfway undone, but instantly turned back to the wall, as the woman wasn't only naked but also shot an interested look towards his crotch.  
"I think I'd like what I see, honestly. But one Dixon's enough, I guess." the girl chuckled as Daryl cursed and practically fled from the room.  
He was unbelievable angry as he stormed outside the trailer to take his piss right there.  
He had just propped his left hand up to the side wall and his dick in his right when he heard a all too familiar voice  
"Are ya a goddamn dog or what?"  
Daryl didn't even react. He had no hand free to flip his brother the bird. He would have to wait until he was done.  
After he had shaken off and zipped his pants he turned around slowly to face his brother and asked  
"What the fuck that nigger bitch doing in there, huh? You fuck her or what?"  
Merle only chuckled "Ah... you already met her?"  
Daryl was infuriated "Yeah, I DID! What's that fuck going on? Can't even take a piss in mah own fucking bathroom!" he yelled.  
"It's Michonne. She's good. Had to change my mind a little."  
"A little?!" Daryl looked at him in sheer disbelief "A little? That bitch is black as your fingernails!"  
"Yeaaaahhh..." Merle had to admit "Met her long ago... She's got some issues... I'm just tryin' to help her out, ya know?"  
"Help her out by what? Cleaning, getting groceries and making a sweet home? Merle, seriously, whatever you took, take less of it next time! She's a NIGGER!"  
"Aaahh shut it. Ain't like I got no eyes in mah face... just had to help her, a'ight?"  
Daryl nearly lost it. Nobody ever helped him or them, what was Merle planning on?  
"He said bad words." A timid voice now spoke up. Daryl's eyes widened as he realized where they came from.  
A little boy had emerged from the truck Merle had come home with. And he was nearly as black as the woman inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please tell me what you think so far!   
> I've got so much more of this story on my mind and would truly appreciate your opinions!


	30. Chapter 30

Chapter 30

The phone was answered at the second ring.   
"Hello?"   
"Good morning Ma'am. This is Jon White speaking. I'm Daryl Dixon's probation Officer. May I talk to Mr or Mrs Clearwater, please?"  
"This is Sharon Clearwater." Chrissie's mother gave back, not hiding her surprise about Mr White's first phonecall ever.   
She'd wished he'd called earlier. Fill them in about whatever progress Daryl Dixon made. If this was even possible, which she honestly doubted.   
"Good morning, Mrs Clearwater." He repeated. "Mr Dixon was at my office for his weekly visit recently, and he told me certain things I'd like to have you confirm. May I ask you some questions, please?"   
"Yes, of course. What has he done? Is he already done with paying child support?"  
"No Ma'am, not at all. He's doing good. He's working hard and he shows up for every appointment."  
Sharon scoffed. Although she'd been positively surprised for him to have his brother bring money in the first place, she hadn't been astonished if he'd made a run as soon as the baby was there.   
These lowlifes weren't made for responsibility. You probably couldn't even blame him on that.   
"Allright. So how can I help you?" She asked the man at the other side of the phone.  
Jon cleared his throat before asking   
"Daryl was at my office yesterday and told me the... your grandkid had been born. And he'd already stopped by to pay for the first month. Can you confirm that for me? I need this for his file."  
Sharon shook her head but couldn't resist to ask "And what if I told you he didn't?"  
"What?" Mr White was startled. Did Daryl lie to him? Why would he do that? Albeit he didn't trust him too much, he clearly believed in his words. If he had lied to him, he would have to call the cops instantly and have him arrested.   
Sharon sighed. "No, he did. $250,- as settled. What happens if he doesn't pay next time?"   
"He will be arrested." Mr White replied honestly. "As soon as he fails to meet the requirements he will go to jail instantly, he won't get away with it, I assure you, Mrs Clearwater."  
"I see. Well, as I just said, he did pay. He told the truth." she repeated.   
"Thank you, Ma'am. I will give you a call next month then, if that's fine by you?"  
"Yes it is. Thank you for your support, Sir. And thank you for dealing with people like him for our all's good."  
"Thank you for your time, Ma'am." Mr White gave back before hanging up. 

He lay back in his office chair. He did calls like these nearly every day. But the answers he usually got were quite different. Sometimes he was even yelled at for things his clients had done, or rather hadn't.   
He hardly ever had to deal with wealthy, educated people like the Clearwater's. He couldn't deny this was quite a welcome change in his daily routine. Polite words being exchanged was something he could get used to. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the meanwhile Chrissie was about to pack up her belongings. Her baby and her were about to be discharged today.   
She turned to the little crib standing next to her hospital bed and smiled. There he was. The little man that had brought her so much pain. Almost as much as his daddy, but in a complete different way.   
The door opened and Sam came in.   
"Hey big momma. You ready to party?" she joked.   
"Absolutely. Can't wait for my first shot of whiskey." Both girls giggled as they knew the first "party" Chrissie was about to join would be an all-nighter with a wailing baby, but surely have nothing to do with some sort of alcohol.   
"Are you really sure about his name?" Samantha asked while peering towards the newborn with its raven-black hair.   
"I'm of age now. So I can make my own decisions. And don't you think he absolutely looks like one Dylan William?"  
"That's not what I'm talking about, and you know that." The older girl shook her head.   
"It's not good. It will cause him only trouble, you know?"  
"His father's name is Dixon, and so is his. It's just fair. If he gets to meet him or not.   
He deserves to know about his father.  
He's on his birth certificate as well."  
"Yeah, I know. You're some stubborn piece of South, do you know that?"  
"Sure I do. Just like the rest of my family." Chrissie said smiling.   
"Did you bring the photos over?"  
"Yes, Ma'am, just as requested." Samantha saluted towards her friend.   
"Thank you so much. I appreciate that. I really do."   
"... Welcome." Sam mumbled, unsure if this had been the right thing. 

After another short checkup by the chief physician Chrissie's father had made sure to pay for, her mother showed up to bring her babies, as she called them to herself, home.   
As she had decided to forgo a baby shower, Chrissie and her had procured all needed items for their new earthling some time ago already.  
They strapped Dylan to the brand-new car seat whose bright red patterns matched the colour of the car.   
Samantha followed suit in der own car. As Chrissie's best friend she clearly didn't want to miss more of her godchild than neccessary. Mr Clearwater hadn't been too happy about Chrissie's choice for a godmother, but whatever concerns he might have had about this were yet overshadowed by his daughters decision not only to have that piece of scum on his grandkid's birth certificate but also to have Dylan bear his surname. A name that screamed out the meaning of lowlife, at least to over the half of town. But Chrissie was unfortunately right as she had told him, that she was eighteen years old now and therefore could and would make her own decisions.  
William had decided to keep her believing that, at least for the time being. Every decision she would make that wasn’t to his liking beyond the ones she had already made, would lead to a severe cut of her financial possibilities. He hoped for her own good there would be no need for that.  
The entire family was there to welcome the new Clearwater at home. Charlie, Christopher and even Sharons 81 year old mother had undergone the exertions of a six-hour travel by bus to meet her first great-grandkid. She was, furthermore, the only person that was nothing but happy about this baby. As Sharon had reasoned her concerns to her, Elizabeth Greene’s nonchalant reply had been, that this was a child and not a disease. And a father taking his responsibility was better than most of the young women of her days had to expect when having an illegitimate child.  
Sharon had to admit that her mother had a point, especially as she knew about the fact that her father had hesitated to marry her as she had gotten pregnant with her oldest brother Jason. Compared to that, whatever Chrissie had been through up to this point was some kind of walk in the sun.  
Her future wouldn’t be affected too much, and even that little dilemma about her choices in the surname department could be fixed as soon as her rush of hormones she was undoubtedly carrying along right now had subsided.


	31. Chapter 31

Chapter 31  
“Just tell me one thing, asshole!” Daryl hissed into his brothers face, having moved up to him much too close. “Is that brat yours, too? I’m gonna stomp your fucking ass, just so ya know!”

Merle shoved his brother’s rosen index finger away with a slow, but firm move.

“Even if he was, this wasn’t any of your business. But, no, he’s not. At least as far as I know.” he waved off easily.  
He then took a step back to put his hand on the little boy’s shoulder.

“This is Andre, Andre this is my brother Daryl.” Merle explained with his raspy voice, fully aware of the fact that Michonne had yet to watch from behind the courtains.  
The little boy held out his hand to Daryl and smiled wide and bright.  
Daryl shot his brother a warning glare. This was only a bad dream. A very bad dream. But he couldn’t bring himself to refuse the boy’s cordiality, so took a quick glance back and forth, and sincerely hoped no neighbours would watch him shake that little nigger’s hand.

Keeping it brief, he took a step back and resisted the urge to wipe his hand on his pants. 26 years of racist education were taking its toll. He had never doubted his brother’s or even his father’s points of view. Niggers and Fags were pieces of shit. No matter how low their own family was or would ever be, they were white, at least. Niggers would take their jobs, as eventually every immigrant would unless put in place right beforehand. They sold drugs to little children and fucked white women whenever within reach. And fags spread diseases. Lived an unnatural lifestyle, fucking each other in the ass and behaving like women even. It didn’t even occur to him that over half of his bad opinions about these people matched his brother and his family as well.

“Let’s go inside, little man.” Merle now announced. “Show your momma what Uncle Merle found for ya at the shop, huh?”

Daryl whirled around grabbed his brother’s arm “ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDIN’ ME!?”  
Andre had been about to vanish inside but Daryls words had him stop frozen in place. Wide-eyed he stared at the younger Dixon.

“Please go inside now. I’ll be there in a minute, ‘kay?” Merle advised, then turned back to Daryl.  
“Shut the fuck up!” He hissed. “Ya got no idea what this boy’s been through! If we ever had a chance to do it right, it’s here and now! And I give a fuck what anybody says about the colour of their skin, ya hear me? Did you never wish somebody would pick you up while lying on the floor in blood and vomit when that old bastard was done with you, huh? Buy you crayons like the kids at school had? Get your sorry ass in there. Now. “

Daryl had listened to his brother’s words with squinted eyes. Nobody ever helped him. As soon as his brother had been gone, nobody seemed to notice his bruises, his scars. Didn’t ask questions when he, the skinny boy, didn’t show up for school. And he should be the one to play karma now?

He scoffed in disbelief but climbed the steps in front of their home when he suddenly realized his belt was still unbuckled and therefore his baggy jeans were about to fall off his slender hips. He had never managed to gain some weight, didn’t get muscles in the right places. He wasn’t skinny but his stringy body had always resembled more to a stray dog than a strong, grown up man. He just didn’t get it any woman could ever find him attractive.

Daryl remained standing at the front door taking in the scene that was offered to him.  
Michonne hugging the little boy in a maternal way Daryl had rarely ever seen, and which caused him to lower his head and peek at his worn out boots.  
His brother then stepped up to her and pecked a kiss on her cheek before hushing the boy to the rear bedroom to take a look at his brand new colouring book and his, as well brand-new, crayons.

“Let’s take a seat.” Merle ordered and lowered himself to the couch next to his… girlfriend.  
As it turned out, Michonne had been a waitress at one of the bars Merle had started to visit recently. Mike, Andre’s father, had never shown any interest in the little one other than pressing money from Michonne by claiming he would apply for sole custody and she’d never see her boy again, if she didn’t relent.  
Merle had ignored her at first while drinking his beloved whiskey at her bar, but as soon as he had discovered the woman to be as bigmouthed as himself, he had slowly opened up. Opened up to the point where he offered to take her home after her nightshift to make sure she’d be safe. First Michonne had declined bluntly, but after some days she had given in. Then, after some more weeks, in which she had gotten used to the safe feeling the older redneck was undoubtedly able to give her, they had kissed. Which had, according to Michonne, led to a running Merle. It had taken two days in which Merle had heavily weighted his options, including moving up to Atlanta to never see that girl again. But then he had shown up again. And they had gone out, despite whatever any of Merle’s friends had told him. Michonne had introduced him to her little boy. And Merle’s heart had melted in a way he’d never even thought to be possible. Seemed his old man hadn’t been able to take the ability to love from him, despite any effort.

Still, there had been Mike, showing up randomly and ordering, in the best case, his drinks on Michonne, or in the worst threaten her until she gave him money.  
As Mike’s attacks had grown from verbal to physical lately, even towards little Andre, Merle had decided to step in. Michonne and her way to love and do everything for her child had touched him deeper than he was able to admit to himself at first. Deep enough even for not telling his brother who had to deal with his own problems enough by far.

So he had helped Michonne to move to another appartement and even get another job in a gay bar, which kept Mike off her heels for the most part.  
He had truly wanted to have a little Dixon-style-talk with Mike but had refained as he didn’t want to risk anything. He couldn’t stand the thought to be locked up again and therefore be separated from the only person that had ever been able to touch his heart, besides his own brother, which he’d never admit.  
Unluckily, Merle had another problem to himself now. Not only was he dating a black woman, he was also attending a gay bar on occasion. Which he kept wisely to himself, as he was fully aware of the fact, that if any of his so-called friend saw him there, would mean in the opposite they had went there for their own reasons. Still, this was nothing he’d tell his brother. Up to now.

Daryl had long buried his head in his hands by listening to this awkward story.  
When Merle had finished, he could do nothing but shake his head in disbelief.  
“So this is all, right? Or what more surprises are there? Wanna get married? Have children?”  
For a second he thought, well, that would be one way to have children of his own blood around, but the second after he scolded himseld for even thinking alike.  
“No, I don’t think so.” Merle replied. “I really do love this woman, but a marriage with a Dixon is nothing I’d want her to bear.”  
Michonne chuckled softly at his words and replied “Maybe one day.”

Daryl couldn’t help but scoff and shake his head again. He just didn’t get it. Was this LOVE? Was his brother in love with that woman? Was this what it looked like?

Daryl eventually did what he always did when not able to cope with a situation: He shut himself off.  
He quickly finished the plate he had left on the table when going to check on the noise from Merle’s room, remained silent when scolded for wanting to smoke inside in spite of Andre being around, and went outside where he sat on the steps to the small front porch.

Daryl remained sitting there for a long time, trying to sort his thoughts.  
Where had his world gone? It had always been Merle and him, as long as he could remember.  
Was he somewhat jealous of that woman inside? No, he decided. He had never been able to feel any other emotion than anger. Just as long as it had been Merle and him.  
Thank God he had to work the next day.


	32. Chapter 32

Chapter 32

As Daryl woke up the next morning everybody else seemed to be still asleep.

He had just gathered his clothes and headed for the kitchen when he heard a door open and little footsteps coming towards him. He peeked around the corner, only to see Andre stumbling, half-asleep in his direction.

“Hey boy, watcha doing here? Dontcha wanna sleep? Wish I could.”  
Andre wiped his nose on the sleeve of his pyjama as he whimpered  
“No, I can’t… my diapee is wet.”

Daryl wasn’t sure he got what the boy was saying, but as he moved closer he could see the diaper the little boy was wearing hanging soggy beneath his little legs.  
Daryl quickly weighted his options.

Looking around the livingroom he spotted what must have been the diaper bag, if one could still say so as the boy looked too old for diapers in his opinion. But eventually Daryl had no clue how old the boy really was or how old would be "too old for diapers". He didn’t know shit about children or babies. All he knew was what it was like to be beaten for pissing his pants when he was little. He had pushed this aside until today, he realized. He wondered how much else he had been pushing aside and wasn’t willing to find out. But the boy’s watery eyes brought him back to reality.

Quickly he opened the bag in search of a new diaper and was successful.

“How do I do that?” he asked the boy.  
“I lie down and you change the diapee.” Andre explained to him. Just as easy as can be, Daryl thought. So he had the boy lie down on the carpet and then opened the diaper slowly.  
“You sure there’s only pee in there?” he asked to reassure.  
“I never go potty in my diapee. I’m almost big!” Andre exclaimed proudly.  
“Of course.” Daryl nodded, then opened the diaper and pulled it away. He wasn’t sure if he had to wipe the boy or with what, so he decided to fix a new diaper would do for the time being.

“Is it too tight?” he asked when he was finished  
“No, it’s good. You’re good at diapee changing.” Andre replied.  
“Hm-hm.” Daryl mumbled back, then pulled the boy back to his feet.

“Imma leave for work now. Be quiet and don’t wake your momma or Uncle Merle, ya hear?” he ordered.  
“I promise. What you work?”  
“I’ll tell ya when I’m back, okay?” Daryl knew he was running outta time.  
“You promise?” Andre didn’t give in. He was just as stubborn as his mother, it seemed.  
“Yeah, I promise. And now I go and you go back to bed, allright?”  
“Yes Uncle Daryl.” Andre smiled, then turned and tip-toed back to the bedroom.  
Daryl gasped for air. What did the boy just call him? Whatever, he thought. He’d been called worse.

A glance at the clock on the livingroom wall proofed what he’d already suspected: he was late for work.  
As fast as he could without exceeding the speed limit Daryl hurried to Mr Horvath’s garage. Having arrived he could already see the man standing in front of the main building, pacing back and forth.  
Great, Daryl thought, that’s it. I’ll be fired.  
And then it came to his mind – Dale had asked him to come early today for a private talk. He was a good thirty minutes late, not only ten as previously estimated. Fuck.  
Dale approached him as soon as he had climbed off his bike, and Daryl instinctively backed off.

“Hey man… I’m sorry… I’m gonna get mah stuff, ‘kay?” Daryk mumbled as he tried to get past his boss, or rather ex-boss considering the fact that he had messed up royally. Again.  
“Hell you will!” Mr. Horvarth shouted at him. “Move your sorry ass to my office!”  
Daryl looked at him deeply surprised. What shit was that? Dale must have noticed the look in his face as he raised his eyebrows.  
“What? I’m not discussing this topic out here!”  
And when Daryl had reluctantly turned to walk over to the offive building, he added quietly and more to himself “not this and not any other topic.”

As they had arrived in the office, Daryl remained standing and Dale decided to leave it at that. He leaned himself against the big messy desk he had piled up on enough papers for two weeks of work if he’d completely quit working on cars, which he couldn’t afford unfortunately.

He shook his head softly “Boy… “ he started but didn’t get far as Daryl interrupted him, eyeing him warily with lowered head.  
“Hey, I know I’ve messed up. Just gimme mah papers a’ight? Imma leave on my own, ‘kay?”  
“Daryl, what’s wrong with you?” Dale gave back. “I was worried beyond belief for you not showing up in time! I was afraid you had an accident or something! Once again, I’m not gonna dismiss you! But tell me what happened! Please!”

Daryl looked up surprised. What was that? Was he trying to tease him? He tried to read his boss’ expression with squinted eyes. He was making fun of him, for sure. His job was gone. He could do nothing right. Never did.  
“Daryl, did you get what I’m saying? I want you to tell me what for Christ’s sake happened to you! Besides, you’ve got something on your cheek.”  
Daryl’s reached for the cheek in question and yes, there was some chocolate smeared across. Did Andre eat cookies? He couldn’t remember. How should one clean chocolate off a child that had the very much same colour, by the way!

Dale frowned but then rounded his desk to take a seat.  
“So… you’re late and smeared with chocolate. What should I think of that, huh?”  
“Nothing, sir. You sure I’m not fired?”  
“I’m gonna fire you instantly if you dare to ask that freakin’ question just one more time, I assure you!” Dale replied, hardly trying not to burst out with laughter.  
He hoped so bad Daryl had found a girl to love, one that maybe had made him pancakes this morning and made him forget about the time? He couldn't tell. Daryl was a loner after all who couldn't bear the slightest human touch, but maybe it was different when it came to women? Somehow he must have managed to father that baby, though. 

Therefore Dale remembered why he had called him in early for today and he pulled open the top drawer of his desk.   
Pausing, he catched Daryl’s gaze once again, keeping his hand low, so Daryl wouldn’t see what he was holding.  
“I’ve got something here for you. But will you please tell me why you’re so late today? You’ve never been late since you’ve been working for me. What’s the matter?”  
“I… uhm…” Daryl cleared his throat uncomfortabely “Mah brother had his girlfriend with him… and they were still sleeping… so I … I mean, his girlfriend, she has a kid, you know? And he’s still little… woke up for a wet diaper… so I… well … I changed him. Did never do this before. ‘S why I’m late. Didn’t mean to. ‘M sorry.”  
“You did what?” Dale looked at him, almost laughing. “That’s why you’re late? Oh Daryl… that’s just… nice of you!” Dale had meant to say ‘cute’ but had refrained due to Daryl’s already confused state of mind.  
“Hmmmm” was the only reply he got, so he decided to hand him what was in the drawer.  
He lay the brown envelope on the desk, advising Daryl to take a seat.

“What’s that?” He asked alerted as being handed the envelope.  
“Just something that was brought for you yesterday. You can open it in private if you want. Should I go out?”  
“Nah, it’s ok.” Daryl gave back and had already started to rip the envelope open. He knew what had to be in there. His hands trembled with anticipation. Still, he was afraid of it.  
Pulling out the contents, his eyes widened. Photos. Of his son. Quite ugly, he thought. Wrinkly and some sort of pink. His hair was black. The only person in Daryl’s family with black hair had been his mother.

“What’s his name?” Daryl asked flatly.  
“His name is Dylan. I've been told there’s more information on the back of each photo. Would you like to take some private time to look them over?” Dale asked carefully.  
“Nah. Gotta work. Cars won’t fix themselves.” Daryl waved off and rose from his chair. It was just then when he perceived the tears running down his cheeks. He wiped them off with the back of his hand and shoved the pictures back to the envelope.

“I think you need a cup of coffee and a cigarette, hm?” Dale offered.  
Daryl nodded gratefully. He held the pictures close as he went for the locker room and placed them carefully between his jeans and leather vest when he changed into his overall before he headed outside to his private place.   
His safe place as he called it to himself. Where he was alone, without any people around. People eventually only hurt you. Daryl didn’t know much, but this he knew for sure. He had skipped the coffee and directly proceeded to his cigarette.   
Goddamn smoke was getting in his eyes and causing them to tear. And it wouldn’t stop, no matter how much he wiped it.


	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here's a brand new chapter for you!  
> I will be posting every wednesday from now on.  
> Hope you enjoy!

Chapter 33

By the end of the day Daryl’s decision had been settled. 

On his way home he stopped at a public phone. He felt like a thief as he inserted a few coins and, after looking over his shoulder, as if somebody would tap him at every moment, fully knowing what he was about to do, dialed the number on the crumpled piece of paper in his shaking hands. 

Three rings later, he already doubted his decision and two more, he was about to hang up when somebody answered. 

“Hello?” 

A female voice, at least.  
“Hey… is this Chrissie?” Daryl asked with lowered voice. 

He got no answer at first, and the sharp inhale he perceived through the speaker tore at his already overstrained nerves.  
“Yes. Is this Daryl?” 

“Yeah.”

“Did you get the photos?”

“Yeah.” 

He wondered if Chrissie already doubted his state of mind and he knew he had to say something more intelligent or the conversation was to be quite a short one. 

“Hey, yeah… I just wanted you to know I got ‘em. Don’t wanna cause no trouble, ya know? And don’t wanna you have none, a’ight?”

Chrissie chuckled. “You don’t. Neither of it. You know what I told the judge. I never wanted to cause any trouble. Things just didn’t went like I planned on.”

Daryl couldn’t help but scoff. “Yeah. Neither did I. Hey, my money’s running low… I just wanted to know if you’re good? Both of you?”

“Yes we are. He’s quite a piece of work, your son. Our son.”

“Ya know he ain’t mah son. Not really. Ya better don’t tell him nothing about me, ya hear?”

“That’s an easy promise to keep. He’s gonna ask himself. One day he surely wants to know about his last name. Didn’t you read what I wrote on the backside of the pics?”

“Hell, woman, are ya completely….”  
But he didn’t get any further as the few coins Daryl had had in his pocket had been used up and the call was disconnected.  
“FUCK!” he shouted out loud, waving back and forth, the speaker still in his hand.  
A bypassing woman eyed him warily, so he quickly lowered his head and, after once again lifting the speaker to his ear, hung up as slowly as possible. 

Of course, this had been a cell phone call, they were way more expensive than to a landline.  
Had the number of his phone been transferred? Would she call back?  
Daryl waited some more minutes but nothing happened.  
He lit up a cigarette and had just decided to go when it eventually went off. 

“Hey. My money’s used up.”

“Yes, I thought so. Listen, I’m gonna go for a grocery run right now. Down to Target. I’ll be there in about 15 minutes and I’ll park next to the main entrance, as always, but I’ll walk over to the side entrance, allright?”

“I’ll be there.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Twenty minutes and three cigarettes later, Daryl is a nervous wreck sitting behind the steering wheel of his old blue truck. With every red car entering the parking lot he nearly jumps out of his skin, albeit he knows the Clearwater’s truck is way to big to be overlooked. 

Then finally, there it is. He watches it cautiously. This could be a trap. He is used to always considering the worst. Well, he is allowed to sit here in his truck, isn’t he? Wo could blame him?

The red RAM comes to a halt some parking rows away from him and he can’t see who is getting out. He can’t see anything at all, to be honest. He keeps his eyes on the side entrance, as agreed. 

There she is. Pushing a stroller with the car seat fixed on top. Crazy shit, Daryl thought. Surely costs more than 250 bucks.  
Chrisse looks left and right before turning into his direction. 

Daryl has thought ahead and parked his truck in a way that makes it possible for her to stop next to the driver’s door discreetly. And she does.  
Winding down the window, he double checks each mirror before facing her. 

“What am I doing here? I’m one breath away to be locked up. Again.”

“I’m so sorry about that. I really didn’t mean to. But hey, look at your son. Dylan William Dixon is his name.”

Daryl raises his eyebrows at her words but still leans out of the window. There he is. Sleeping. Not as pink and not as ugly as on the pictures in the envelope in the glovebox, but still… Daryl just can’t understand, can’t conceive that he… caused this. Him. In his opinion fucking has nothing to do with kids. Kids are for rich people. Not folks like him. Not folks like his own parents. 

“Jesus Christ.” he mutters, biting on his thumbnail.  
“Girl, you’re fucking crazy, ya know that? Ya can’t have him mah name. Ya can’t make me be on his birth certificate. Ya ruin his life! Ya have no idea what it is like to be ‘that Dixon boy’. People know that name. Ya gotta change this and quick!”

“No I won’t. If he gets my last name people will think I don’t even know who his daddy is. If his name is Dixon, everyone will know that his father took responsibility, albeit he was born out of wedlock.”

“You’re fucking crazy.” Daryl repeats, shaking his head in disbelief. 

“You better learn to watch your mouth around him, you hear? If you keep on with that shenanigans, people will be able to tell who his daddy is by his talking before even knowing his last name.” Chrissie teases him. 

“Whaddaya mean, around him? Learn? I can’t take the risk to be seen once again! They will lock me up. I’ll loose both mah jobs, I need ta work to provide for his money, don’t ya understand?”  
Daryl nearly panics. Why in hell’s sake did he come here anyway?

“Shhh! Be quiet!” Chrissie scolds him. “You’ll wake him up! And what do you mean, two jobs?”

Daryl rolls his eyes at such an outburst of naivety, he nearly gets angry. 

“What do you think I earn? I have to eat, buy fuel! Can’t pay 250 bucks outta nowhere! Goddamnit, I’m not rich! Not like… “ he interrupts. 

“Not like me, ya mean?” Chrissie scoffs, ignoring his choice of words. “No, surely not. Your son won’t be short of anything, but most important not short of love.”

“Ya gotta change that name. I don’t want this. Ya don’t know nothing about me, mah family. We’re way beneath you. Please don’t do that.” With his last words he is almost pleading. 

“Call me tonight. We need to talk in peace and quiet.”

“I can’t.” Daryl averts his gaze, blushing in shame. 

“But why? Don’t you want to talk?” Chrissie frows at him in disbelief. 

Dayl sighs deeply before he responds. Doesn’t matter if she knows, does it?  
“The phone’s been cut off. Couldn’t pay the bill. ‘S why I called from that public phone today. So ya see, ya found yourself a real prize here.”

Chrissies eyes widen. Never did she know anybody who wasn’t able to pay a bill. Never was money something to worry about. Never was the fridge empty or no presents under the Christmas tree.  
Suddenly she feels so sorry for the sweaty man in front of her. He looks so much older than her, here in the bright light of day. Gauntly, exhausted, as if he has already witnessed too much for his age, too much for a lifetime maybe. 

“Okay. So gimme your number. I’m gonna call.” And she pulls out her brand new cellphone and quickly saves the number he dictates her.  
“I’ll call at eight.” She tells him and leaves. 

Daryl remains motionless in his truck, looking after that young girl pushing a stroller with a baby inside. Before he knows he has lit another cigarette.


	34. Chapter 34

Chapter 34

Daryl doesn’t know how long he’d been sitting in his truck, staring at the corner Chrissie rounded before vanishing out of his sight.

A sudden knock on the window makes him wince. Confused, he turns his head only to see Officer Grimes facing him. He gestures him to roll down the window.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Dixon.” Rick Grimes nods at him.

“Did I do something wrong?” Daryl asks, voice raspy from smoking too many cigarettes in a row, while eyeing him warily. 

“I’m not sure.” The Officer gives back. “We got a call about somebody sitting in his car for over an hour, watching the shop entrance, seeming somewhat confused. I just want to make sure you’re not going to do something you might regret.”

It takes a moment for Daryl to take in these words, but it’s nothing he’s surprised of to be asked.   
He’s Daryl Dixon.   
He is used to people expecting nothing good from him.

Daryl catches the Officer’s gaze. “Is that what you think of me?”

“I’m not here to expect anything. Mr. Dixon.” Rick gives back, “May I see you license and registration, please?”

“Sure.” With a sigh, Daryl leans forward to search the glove box for the required.

“What’s in there?” Mr. Grimes asks as Daryl shoves aside the big envelope.

“Nuthing.” Daryl mumbles but he knows when he’s lost.

“I’m sorry but I have to check on it. Make sure there’s nothing illegal in it.” Officer Grimes tries to explain.

“What if I tell ya it ain’t illegal and I don’t want you to see it anyway?” he knows it won’t help but he’ll try.

Rick Grimes breathes deeply. “Mr. Dixon, if you’re unwilling to show me the contents of this envelope I will have to take you down to the Police Department for a complete checkup including a drug test an all. Are you sure you want this?”

Daryl shakes his head no.

“But if there’s nothing illegal in it, you won’t have to tell anybody what it is, do ya?”  
The Officer gives him a critical glare, but relents.  
“I don’t think so.”

So Daryl hands him the envelope, then instantly grabs the steeringwheel with both hands, first to stop them from trembling and, second, to have them be seen, just in case the Officer changes his mind about that arresting thing as soon as he sees the photos.  
He don’t want to get arrested with an arm turned backwards and a gun pointed at his head.  
His son will hear enough bad things about him. No need to pile up even more. He closes his eyes. Hears the envelope being opened. Officer Grimes’ sharp breathing as he flips the pictures and realizes what’s on them.  
But nothing else. Some more shuffling, then the Officer clearing his throat.  
Daryl’s knuckles are almost white from clenching the steeringwheel. He turns his head.

“Thank you for your cooperation. There’s nothing illegal in that envelope. Just as you told me.”   
Mr. Grimes tells him with a nod. There’s something in his voice Daryl can’t exactly put his finger on.

“Hmm.” Daryl mumbles, lips pressed together. Will he take the pictures? Will he report about them? Is Daryl allowed to have them at all?

“You know, I am a father, too. Memories are one precious thing to keep. Have a nice day, Mr. Dixon.”  
The Officer says with a sigh, undoubtedly resulting from his own thoughts about his own children.

“Ya know I ain’t.”  
Daryl grunts back, throwing the envelope on the passenger seat and pulling out of the parking lot as quickly as possible, license and registration long forgotten. 

It’s only when he pulles up to the trailer his brother and him call home, when he realizes he won’t be alone.  
Michonnes little red car is standing right in front and Merle is leaning at the rail of the porch, smoking a cigarette.  
Daryl grabs the envelope off the front seat and joins him, not wanting to know why he’s got a grin on his face like a cat that has just devoured a bowl of cream.

“Ya know what, little brother?” Merle starts off in a more than complacent tone.  
“That ol’ bastard didn’t give us much and took a lot. But certainly he didn’t take the ability to love and cherish life.”

Daryl scoffed and looked at his brother with a raised eyebrow, considering if it was some new drugs or if he at least found something, or rather someone, to change his life and make it worthy.   
Wouldn’t change the outcome much, eventually. 

“Yeah, keep that bubble as long as ya can.” He tells him spitefully, earning himself a critical glare. 

What the hell is his brother thinking?  
Anger is now taking over, the good old Dixon anger, as he steps up close to his brother and points his finger in his face. He rarely ever does this, but today it seems, his brother is in desperate need of some truth to be told.

“Do ya think life’s different now, huh? Are ya some kind o’ brainwashed? You’re a goddamn Redneck, just like me and the rest of our fucking family. Don’t have no education, no job. Can’t provide for ya’self, much less a family. Ya think it’ll all gonna change just because you found out Niggers are people, too? Huh? Better make her leave, for her own good. Things don’t work like that, and you know it! Both we’ve been knowing this since we were children, there ain’t no sugarcoated wonderland!

And with that he turns to enter the house, wondering if he is just about to take a blow, when Merle speaks up.

“Well, baby brother, all I can do is try. Just like you. Try and do it right.”  
But Daryl only slams the fly screen shut.

Luckily neither Michonne nor Andrew seem to be around, but still it seems nothing of his good old shitty home is left.

It’s clean, the fridge is full, the cushions are arranged carefully on what’s still a dumpster couch.

“FUCK IT!”  
Daryl yells out.

He feels caged, like a fox in a trap. He’s gonna leave, he thinks to himself, but he wants to take a close look at these pictures first. 

So he grabs a beer from the fridge and is about to slam the door as shut as the fly screen before, when he stops and takes a piece of the same cheese like the other day. Wasn’t too bad, though.   
Some sausages, too. And bread. Why should he not get his fair share of the new circumstances? They surely weren’t to last, so might as well take it while you can, right?

The flash of a memory comes to his mind. His mother, telling him never to drink again. Making pancakes for Merle and him. Cuddling both of them.   
Damn, she smelled so good… when she was nice and clean.   
The memory is so intense, it has Daryl close his eyes and inhale deeply, as if he could smell his mom once again. He has never admitted to himself how much he really misses her, even up to this day. One more thing that is better to be left in the past. 

The sound of the bathroom door being opened reminds him there are still other people around, and his deep breath releases in a sigh. 

Holding his prey firmly, he finally heads to his room, mumbling some incoherent greet towards his two new, now towel-clad housemates. 

Once in his room he bolts down his food as quickly as possible. Not only does he want to take a look at the photos, but he is used to it. Eating as fast as possible.   
First, there was the need to eat much in little time, when he didn’t know when there would be more again. Then, there was his father, punishing him with the deprivation of food for several days, as soon as his mother and Merle were gone.   
Later on, it was the lack of money that made him gobble down his food as soon as he was able to buy some.   
Only venison made him eat slower, albeit not much, as he had his own private barbecue every so often after a successful hunt. 

He wipes his hands on his trousers as soon as he’s finished and grabs the brown envelope. 

There are four photos in it, each one of them in a bigger than usual size, like they were ready to be framed. Even if he had a frame, Daryl doubts the thin walls of the trailer could withstand a hammer and a nail, much less a framed photo hanging from it. 

The first shows a crinkly newborn, lying on what must be his mother’s chest. His hair ist still wet and his eyes are closed. The backside reads: 

DYLAN WILLIAM DIXON   
born April, 18th 1997  
11:36 pm

The secons must have been taken soon afterwards. It shows Chrissie, covered in sweat, holding him and smiling towards the camera. She looks so young. Dylan’s eyes are open now, but only a little. 

DYLAN at one hour old  
7,8 pounds, 22,1 inches

Daryl has no idea which size or weight is normal for a newborn. He looked quite big in his stroller when he first saw him. The thought Chrissie had to… give birth to something that big makes him frown. He wonders if fathers usually get prepared for this. These thoughts. 

The last two pictures are Dylan in the hospital crib, one sleeping and one with his eyes open, less wrinkly now. His eyes are quite dark, but Daryl can tell they’re blue. 

He wonders which colour Chrissie’s eyes are. 

I’m a damn prick, he tells himself. Knocking up an underage girl and don’t even remember how she looks.


	35. Chapter 35

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for having you wait for so long... This chapter kinda took me forever!

Chapter 35

Later on, when Michonne had gone to work and Merle was playing some sort of card game with Andre, Daryl finally emerged out of his room. He remained standing in the short hallway, hands shoved in his pockets.  
He felt something numb, no feeling he was used to. He was used to anger, to fear even. To physical feelings like hunger and hurt.

It was ten minutes to eight.  
He didn’t want to talk to her.  
He better wanted to run. Leave everything behind. Get lit and forget about everything, at least for a couple of hours.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when suddenly the phone rang, and therefore made his brother and the little boy twitch, too.

“Freaks!” Merle hissed, while Daryl rolled his eyes, grabbing the phone.  
His brother had never been able to watch his language, up to now.

“Yeah?” Daryl answered the phone and went back to his room.  
Instantly, he perceived the cries of a baby in the background, before even hearing Chrissie’s voice.

“Hey there.” she said.

“Hey yourself.” Daryl gave back. What was he going to tell her? He realized he hadn’t even thought about this beforehand.  
But thankfully Chrissie obviously had.

“So….” she started “What do you want to know about your son first? I’m gonna tell you everything you want. If you want, that is.”

“Yeah, sure I do,” Daryl gave back “But tell me for what? It makes no difference. For none of us.”

Chrissie chuckled bemused.  
“For the same reason you came to that parking lot in the first place. You want to be in his life. Don’t you? Or are you just as badass as you pretend to be?”

“Ya don’t get it, right? I can’t, even if I want. Remember the legal restraints? They can’t be undid just because you came to the conclusion you wanna … whatever!”  
Daryl ranted into the speaker.

“Chill down, old man!” Chrissie directed.  
“It’s not like I wanna play house, allright?”

To be honest, that was exactly what Daryl had wanted to say before. He scoffed. He started to hate that girl. At least his heart started to beat faster at her words. Playing house. Goddamnit.

She took a deep breath before continuing.  
“I want you to get the chance to see your boy. If you don’t want that, I’m just fine with it. Tell me and you’ll never hear from me again. From us.”

She was bluffing and Daryl knew it. He was falling into the trap nonetheless.

“Fuck woman, yeah, I do. I want to see mah son. No, actually, I don’t. Won’t any good come from that. Why the fuck do YOU want that? Y’all should be happy to have me off yer heels! I’m paying. ‘S all ya wanted in the first place, didn’t ya?”

Chrissie sighed deeply before responding.  
“You have no clue what I really wanted. All I wanted was to have fun, drink some, break free and eventually have sex for the fi…” she interrupted.

Daryl remained silent for a moment. Did she really mean to say … ?

“Ya been a virgin?” he finally spoke out.

“No… well, actually, yes.” Chrissie admitted quietly. She cleared her throat before trying to weaken her last words. A little more secure, she spoke on.  
“But don’t you get cocky about that. It was my, and only my decision to finally get rid of that friggin’ V-Card o’mine. So now that this is all sorted out, we can proceed to whatever you want to know about our mutual child, dontcha think?”

“No. Why ya choose me for that? Ya could’ve gotten a good boy, your age, nice and clean.”  
Daryl’s voice came out insecure.  
Eventually it would have been better for all participants if she had. Still, something else deep inside his mind had to hear her answer. Was longing for it.

“Because you were. Nice, clean and … some sort of straight.”   
she replied.

“Simple-minded.” He corrected her.

“No. just not … arrogant. Neither convinced of yourself nor pansy. It was just sex. And I wanted it that way. That whole first-time-shit is so friggin’ overrated. I wanted it to get over with it.”

“So you used me.” Daryl stated.

Now Chrissie was the one to get angry as well.  
“It wasn't like I had to tie you to the bed and rip off your clothes, was it? And I guess you’re not the one to tell stories about taking advantage, are you? It’s not like I didn’t hear some stories about you Dixons. I’m not talking to you because I think they’re not true. It’s in spite of what I heard.”

“Goddamn bitch, ya know what? Fuck you! Ya think you’re the one to sacrifice giving me opportunity to see a kid I ain’t ever wanted! Go back horseriding or whatever is worth your fucking time!”  
Daryl ranted into the speaker and was close to simply hanging up when that stubborn girl spoke back.

"Yeah sure. Blame me for whatever you've done, right? Go make up your mind. Your son is crying, I need to feed him right now. Imma take responsibility. Call me again if you want that, too. Have a good night."  
And with that, she hung up, leaving Daryl dumbfounded. 

Nearly instantly, he tossed the phone to the bed besides him, grabbed his leather jacket and stormed out of the house, ignoring Merle and Andre's surprised looks. He knew he had 20 bucks left in his wallet. They would be transformed in as much booze as possible, he decided. 

After a short ride in his truck he arrived at "THE BLACK", Merle's favourite bar, and therefore his own as well. Merle used to hang out here with his so-called friends. Some of them sold him drugs, some of them bought them from him. 

The only person ever talking to him as an actual person was, to his surprise, the barkeeper and owner, Melissa. One could think she'd only be interested in how much he drank or if he could pay for it, but for some odd reason she always used to come over to the side of the bar Daryl used to sit every once in a while and try to involve him in a conversation.

At first, Daryl had suspected she'd only be interested in Merle or one of his friends and try to use him for her purposes, so he'd acted outright repellently. But when she had come back over and over again, he had slowly opened up a little bit and up to now even went outside with her for a smoke sometimes. 

Daryl remained sitting in his truck in the parking lot, window rolled down, to finish his cigarette.   
He had surely noticed the three men standing in front of the bar, but didn't pay too much attention, as he recognized them as some of his brother's friends. 

However, when they started talking and moving into his direction, he wondered what might be wrong. Never showing his tention, he focused them with squinted eyes as he flicked the butt of his cigarette to the ground. 

"Well well, look what the cat dragged in."   
The first man, a dirty hick with overgrown hair, started off. 

Daryl's need for a conversation was close down to zero so he didn't bother to ask what they were here for. He would tell him eventually. Which he did. 

"So tell me one thing, Mister Dixon."   
He continnued,   
"Is your brother gay now or is he only fucking Niggers? Or fucking gay Niggers?" 

During his last words he had opened his arms in poor-acted helplessness, causing his buddies to roar with laughter. 

Daryl wasn't prepared for this.

"I dunno whatcha talking 'bout."  
He growled with lowered voice. He knew that he had no chance against three of them at once.

"Oh sure ya don't." The second guy stepped in. "Ya're too busy raping mah sister, huh?"   
Daryl raised his eyebrows confused. This guy surely was no relative to Christine Clearwater, not even by distance.

Then the comprehension sank in, and with it the realization of how bad the situation could turn out for him. The man in front of him, showing him his gritted yellow teeth, was Courtney's brother.


	36. Chapter 36

Chapter 36

The next thing Daryl was able to witness was somebody pulling him back inside his own truck in the passenger seat.

The three men had prompted him to get off his truck- to have things sorted out, as they called it.

As it had quickly turned out, talking was not what their intention had been, and had Daryl first started to fight the men off, had he way too soon to discover that he had no chance against all three of them.  
Fate had been merciful as one hard punch against his cheekbone had caused him to snap back to his truck and instantly pass out.  
Some witnesses had pulled the men back as they continued to hit and kick him while yet lying on the floor, and therefore probably saved his life.

Now the three had pulled him up again, likely to keep the appearance to be done by now.  
But they obviously weren’t.  
Daryl’s blood ran cold when he heard the engine being started. They would drive out to the woods and there they would kill him, he was sure.  
His life was about to end, and what was truly frightening, was that there was nothing to shed a tear about. Nothing he had ever achieved.  
But still, he wouldn’t go without a fight. Daryl kept his eyes closed to make them think he was still unconscious. This would surely would get him some advantage, and even if it was only to get out and run.   
But there would be no need for that.

He heard the men whisper to each other. They sounded unsure as they contemplated what to do.  
They were absolutely aware of the fact that everybody had seen them leave with Daryl in his truck, and that whatever was about to happen to him would be blamed on them.

So eventually, after a short ride, too short to get them out of town, the truck was pulled up to another parking lot.

“That’s where ya belong to, ya fucking fag!” Courntey’s brother hissed in his ear and spat in his face, then the three of them left.

Daryl remained motionless for some minutes, unsure what to do. He couldn’t tell for sure if they were gone and didn’t want to risk getting knocked out again if they were still watching him.  
What had they meant by saying this was where he belonged to?  
Slowly Daryl cracked open one eye.  
He saw blue neon signs flashing and almost laughed.  
This was THE ROOSTER. Not only the only gay bar within 50 miles but also Michonne’s working place.  
This could be some unexpected blessing in disguise he thought as he tried to get out of the car.  
But first he had to leave it at the attempt, as his legs gave in as he tried to stand and his head was pounding.  
Daryl sat down on the footboard of the passenger door, holding his head with both hands. His vision was a blur, he most likely had another concussion. Not to mention the pain in his ribcage.  
But he was alive.

He remained sitting there for some time, kneading his pack of cigarettes as he didn’t dare to smoke. Experience had told him long ago that smoking in combination with a concussion would lead to eating backwards, to say the least.  
He was leaning his head against the door pillar when a concerned face showed up in his restricted field of vision.

“Hey Baby, are you allright? You look awful. Do you need help?”

If Daryl had been able to focus on anything he would maybe have wondered about a boy wearing mascara, but due to his desolate physical state he left it at a lowered growl that was supposed to mean “no”.  
Unfortunately the boy seemed not accept no for an answer as he called out for his friend Chuck who proved to be tall enough to lift Daryl up.  
“Let’s bring him inside. Cops will ask questions if they find him.” Chuck stated. Yeah great, Daryl thought, so much about caring for him.  
“And he can lie down on the couch.” – yeah, well maybe a little bit.   
Oh wait, they think I’m a queer?  
“Hey… I’m not gay… justsoyaknow…” Daryl managed to mutter while clenching his teeth in pain.

Chuck laughed a little, but restrained himself from chuckling too much while supporting Daryl, as he was aware of the fact that the bruises in his face weren’t the only ones on his body and every unnecessary move would cause him pain.

“Hey Eddie, go get Michonne, okay? She gonna help us.” Chuck addressed the first guy.  
“Yeah… M’chonne…” Daryl tried to articulate, but standing up from the footboard had almost crashed his blood pressure down to nothing.  
As his legs completely gave in, he expected to crash to the ground, but the impact didn’t come.  
As he regained consciousness, Michonne was looking him straight in die eye and he felt some wool blanket underneath him.

"Stay here," she said. "I gotta work and I'll drive you home later, allright? And whatever you- don't go out to the bar, d'you understand me?"

Daryl growled some incoherent "yeah" before he closed his eyes again.  
Why in heavens would he walk into a gay bar?  
But... about half an hour later, when he had successfully sat up and just drank some of the water Michonne had thoughtfully placed on top of two piled up cardboard boxes in the maintenance room he had obviuosly been brought to, couriousity was taking over.   
Carefully, placing one foot in front of the other, Daryl managed to get to the bead courtain that separated the small room from the backside of the bar counter.   
Music was blaring loudly, and he heard people lough.   
He almost wanted to back off as the loudly pumping music caused his head to pound, when he saw him. And as always, luck wasn't on his side and their gazes connected.   
It was like the room was silenced for a second. There he stood, eyes glassy and shirt sticky with sweat, but still sober enough to recognize his opposite instantly.   
Charlie Clearwater.


	37. Chapter 37

Chapter 37

In the meanwhile, Merle was dealing with a complete different kind of problems. 

He had tried, hard, desperate, to gather a job or two in order to get his life back on track. Although he knew all too well that "back" wasn't the proper expression. There had been no "on track" before. 

He had been one of those ratty kids on whom neither the brutal attempts of disciplining from his father nor the unconditional love of his mother had any impact. 

Daryl had never wanted to talk about anything, but if he had, Merle would have told him many things. About their mother. How she used to be before she started drinking. 

And also, how nine-year-old Merle had managed to keep her off the bottle for nearly seven months.  
He hadn't known much, back then. But as a child growing up on the wrong side of the tracks, he had known alcohol was no good. For nobody, and much less an unborn child. 

In retrospect, Merle was sure there had been another man involved. But Will Dixon had never seeked vengeance towards anybody. Maybe his brother was the result of their father laying claim to his wife again after witnessing another man showing interest? 

Well, so if William Dixon wasn't his brother's father, at least that little nephew of his didn't share his blood. Good for him. 

Merle had secretly looked at the photos Daryl had brought whenever he wasn't home. Something he couldn't describe clenched his chest at their sight.  
He wished there was somebody to talk about all this. But, eventually, it wouldn't change the facts.  
Sometimes he wished he could shove things aside like his brother. Daryl was far from dumb, but somehow he had learned to shut out the rest of the world. Which was a good thing for people like them. Merle hoped this baby wouldn't cause his walls to break down. His own nearly had.

He had applied for jobs, one shittier than the other, for almost four weeks now.  
Problem wasn't that he hadn't gotten one of them, the problem was the way he had been declined everywhere. People knew him and his reputation. Now he was running out of money.

He had even stopped drinking beforehand. Well, nearly. He still was a good liar, even towards himself.  
He had to face the facts, he thought to himself.  
With a sigh, he grabbed the phone and made a short call, then made a left a note on the table and left. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Daryl's hasty step back into the back room caused him to stumble, and with a less than elegant movement he managed not only to clear one of the shelves completely, but also to crash hard to his injured side, causing him to black out once more. And again, despite the noise in the main room, Michonne seemed to have heard something. Or had some kind of sixth sense. Whatever it was, Daryl again looked her straight in the concerned eye as he woke up. 

"What happened?" she asked him.  
"Charlie..." Daryl managed to bring out with clenched teeth.  
"Guess why I wanted you to stay back in here?" Michonne scolded him.  
"He's here every weekend. And he's already seen your brother. Didn't he tell you? I don't know what he's about to do, once he feels threatened."  
Daryl blinked. Now it made sense. What Merle had tried to tell him that night some weeks ago. 

"Goddamn motherfucker..." He cursed in a poor attempt to keep up the appearance, but at least managed to gather up from the floor. 

"I gotta take you to the hospital." Michonne told him, but Daryl waved off.

"Nah, they can't do nothing about broken ribs. I've had this before. Some meds will do." 

And Michonne nodded, fully understanding what he meant. Some of his brother's pills and a lot of sleep. Hospital bills were bitches.

As soon as her shift had ended, she sneaked out to the parking lot, cautiously like a thief, in order to get Daryl's truck as close to the side entrance as possible. 

Charlie was nowhere to be seen, and she honestly hadn't known what to tell him if she had, furthermore was fearful what he might say to her and what he was about to do. 

Even though he wasn't in the strongest position regarding this issue, both Daryl and she knew he posessed enough influence to affect both of their lives, and sure as hell not to the best. 

She released a deep sigh when a battered and bruised Daryl had finally made his way to the back of the truck, now lying across the backseat and breathing shallow, attempting not to afflict his ribcage too much. 

Just as she was about to exit when somebody waved her over. 

Trying to keep a nonchalant expression on her face, she rolled down the window and looked at the man facing her with raised eyebrows while she sincerely hoped Daryl would play along.

"He's unconscious again. Didn't get much of what happened. Maybe he won't remember at all."  
She told Charlie, who had now taken a step aside from his mate.

"He better won't." he slurred back, obviuosly drunk, but nonetheless threatening, and Michonne was the first to know when to hold back and be the good girl. Life had been her teacher more than she'd ever admit to anybody.  
So she smiled at him and replied  
"you know him. He's just Merle's stupid little lapdog. Nobody would believe him.  
Eventually he's nothing but a burden to us all."

"He fucked my little sister. Knocked her up." Charlie stated.

"Yeah, he's nothing but trouble. Listen, he's been bleeding enough, dontcha think? Imma keep him away from you and you consider forgetting 'bout this, hm?",  
Michonne looked at him pleadingly, trying her diplomatic skills. 

"We'll see." was all of a response she got, but it was what she had expected and hoped for. 

"Thank you." She smiled once again, gratefully, and finally pulled out of the parking lot.


	38. Chapter 38

Chapter 38

Daryl moaned when he woke up the next day. His whole body felt shattered.  
He wasn't even able to twich when he noticed he was wearing a different shirt.  
He knew what that meant. Michonne had seen him naked. He tried to remember what had happened after they had arrived home. But the pain had blurred his memory.  
Well, his brother had his own scars for sure. It was just that Daryl hated those looks, pity mixed up with unconcealed curiousity. Eventually he hated every kind of social interactions unless absolutely inevitable. But that was a different story.  
The only thing he could remember about coming home was how Michonne had given him two pills and something to drink. Then everything had went black.

He moved experimentally but instantly had to learn that moving in general wasn't a good idea. He already knew he wouldn't go to work on monday. Dale would be angry, he wouldn't be paid and his whole fiancials would be running on empty.  
He wouldn't be able to pile up boxes at the supermarket, too.  
He would be fired.  
He would be unable to pay child support.  
He would be sent to jail.  
He would be everything bad that was expected from him and he would never get the chance to see his boy again.  
And it was all his fault. 

He tried some physical inventory.  
As far as he could tell his feet were good. His legs too, besides his right thigh, which was hurting a little, but nothing worse than some stiffness.  
But his arms hurt like a fucking bitch. He must've tried to protect his head while lying on the ground. Therefore his head was quite good. Barely any headache.  
And the rest of his upper body was either numb or sore. He suspected to have at least three broken ribs. Every muscle movement in that area caused a stinging pain. Needless to say that breathing was included in "every movement". 

He rolled sidewards towards the edge of the bed, then swung his legs down, trying not to bend his upper body too much, and with a colourful curse finally managed to sit up.  
Carefully he stood up and slowly made his way to the livingroom. 

Michonne was standing at the kitchen counter and André was playing quietly with his building bricks at the otherwise clean couchtable.  
Their home had to be the cleanest of the whole trailerpark, Daryl thought.  
Then he realized the mobile phone Michonne was holding in her hands. She seemed concerned.  
Merle was nowhere to be seen. 

"Morning..." Daryl grunted albeit he didn't even know what time it was.

"Merle's gone." Michonne gave back instead of an answer, quietly.  
"He left André at home alone last night. He never did that. His phone is switched off, it seems. Left a note, but I can't figure it out."

"Lemme see." Daryl ordered and stretched out his hand for the crumpled piece of paper in her hand. 

In Merle's steady, almost beautiful handwriting, he read: 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Baby,  
I am sorry. Daryl was right. I'm not made for middle-class life.  
André was fast asleep and I locked the door twice, just in case.  
Thank you for your love and your trust in me.  
I promise I will come back.  
But don't go searching for me, allright?  
If somebody asks, pretend we hardly know, tell them you are Daryl's girl.  
I can't say nothing more.  
Please trust me one more time. 

Kiss,  
Your "Hubby"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Daryl sighed as deep as his broken ribs would let him.  
"He either comes back until tomorrow or he'll end up in jail.  
He went for a run it seems."  
"Drugs?" Michonne asked, although she already knew the answer.  
Daryl only nodded in response. 

André fortunately had slept through that fateful night and now was the same smiling boy he always was, besides the fact that he somewhat seemed to feel the tension in the air, resulting not only from his uncle's black eye. Kids from broken homes had a sense for these things.  
Daryl knew it from experience. 

Later, he carefully settled down in the couch and knocked himself out with a handful of painkillers, as Michonne tried to get some distraction by cleaning up.  
In the afternoon, André and her went to meet a friend of Michonne and her kid at a nearby playground while Daryl had fallen asleep.

He woke up from an unsteady sleep some time later and tried to remember what had happened, when the telephone rang.  
The telephone never rang. Even the telemarketers didn't try this part of town.  
As painkillers still worked, Daryl was able to grab the phone before the caller would give up and leave him without a chance to call back. 

"Hello?" He croaked into the speaker, voice hoarse from sleeping. 

The reply he got confirmed his worst expectations. 

"Hey Baby Brother."  
Merle.

"Hey man, where the fuck are you?"  
Daryl asked, but deep inside, he already knew the answer. 

"I'm with some ole friends. Can ya bring me some o' mah stuff?"

Straight to the point, his brother.  
No regrets. No please. No thanks. 

Daryl sighed deeply.  
"Yeah, sure."  
He wanted to say more, so much more. Shout at him. Spit in his face how he failed all over again, that he had seen it coming. That he should have known it himself right from the start.  
That he was a piece of shit, that he could do nothing right.  
But as always, he didn't. 

Now he was the one, again, to pack up things. The same dufflebag. Different clothes. 

While packing, Daryl carefully inspected his bruises. Poked here and there. If he was lucky, there was only one broken rib. Maybe he could still work.  
He knew, now there was no alternative. Not now. No more.  
Michonne had nowhere to go but here. The rent had to be paid. He had to, it was all up to him now, and him alone.  
He sat down on the edge of Merle's bed and buried his face in his hands. Then shook his head. Just a waste of time. 

A short look in the bathroom mirror confirmed his expectations.  
But hey, Carol had seen him worse.


	39. Chapter 39

Chapter 39

Daryl honestly couldn't remember how many times he had driven the way to that Police Station. And always for the same reason. He must have been sixteen or seventeen by the first time. 

He had walked in unsure what to do or what to say. But just like everywhere else he went, it had been enough to say his name. He could have waved with a degree in rocket science, the Dixon name would have it nullified in an instant, it seemed to him.

Years later, when he permitted himself to recap his early visits at the Police, he wondered why people would treat a sixteen-year-old like this only because of his last name.  
Patronising. Arrogant. 

He scoffed at the thought. Stop thinking about it, he scolded himself.  
He knew who he was and where he came from. And that it wasn't to be changed.  
He just couldn't adjust to it like his brother. 

Walking into the Department, he squinted his eyes, unsure where to head first.  
Then he saw her.  
Carol Peletier.  
Their gazes met for what seemed a silent eternity. Way too long.  
Then her attention was drawn to a colleague stepping up to her and she turned away.  
Daryl still stared. 

It seemed eons ago when they were together. Had it been "together"? What had it been? 

It all had started when they were about 14 years old.  
She was living in the same neighborhood, but not really close. Far enough at least not to witness his parents fighting, shouting or smashing dishes.  
She had found him, sobbing, his shirt wet with blood, near the pond that used to be his safe place then. 

She didn't ask questions, though.  
Took him home where she used to be alone, her parents either working or God-knows-where. Neglect was better than abuse, he had thought to himself.  
She had cleaned the wounds on his back for the first of many times.  
They understood each other without words. 

Years later, they had kissed for the first time, both of them late bloomers. Never did they dare to do more. Never did he want to do that to her. Ruin her life.  
He hadn't known much, back then, but he had overheard what his brother's phonecalls. Phrases like "how did you let that happen? - That's your fault!" and words like abortion clinic. And cursing about the costs. 

He didn't dare to ask anything about that stuff.  
He honestly believed that if you put your dick in a girl she'd get pregnant. Inevitably. 

Carol and him never talked about it.  
One time only, when he spent the night at her place and they drank too much cheap vine, she had made an attempt to travel down her hand to his crotch.  
He had jumped up scared. Yelled no, and when she had asked why, he ran away. 

She tried to call afterwards, so often that Merle had suspected Daryl had knocked her up and their father beat the hell outta him just for the suspicion. He had been seventeen. 

About a year later, when nobody else was home, she had come to him, one last time.  
Soaking wet from the pouring rain she stood on his porch. Her long, auburn hair stuck to her face. And it seemed no time had passed.  
The same feeling in his chest like that very moment.  
She had told him she wanted him and nobody else. And he had longed to telling her the same, but he couldn't. 

"Take me to the bedroom." she demanded.  
"One time only." 

She interwinded their hands, sitting on the edge of yet another frayed couch.

"I can't" he replied, voice as fearful as his eyes, yet desiring.  
"Imma ruin your life. Can't marry you, and you know it."

She had bended forward and looked him deep in the eye.  
"One day I'm gonna marry you, Daryl Dixon. And you know it just as good."

He remembered how he smiled shily, and what he had answered. 

"Then, Mrs. Dixon, I'll take you to the bedroom. But we both know that ain't gonna happen."

She kissed his forehead  
"I will wait for you." she whispered.  
Then she left.  
He'd never seen her again.

A long years later he heard rumours about her and Ed Peletier.  
Rumours she was pregnant. That they got married.  
Too many years had passed. 

He knew Ed didn't know about them. He wouldn't have hired him, otherwise.  
And she never came over to the garage, as long as he worked there. 

He stepped closer now. She lifted her gaze. Her blue eyes mirrored all they ever experienced together. Warm summernights. Comfort. Safety.  
Time was a bitch. 

"Hey." Daryl said, voice low and raspy. 

"Hey yourself." she gave back. "It's been a while." 

"Yeah. You're good?" Daryl halfway turned to look over his shoulder, as if someone might listen. 

"Yes, we are. How 'bout you ?" Carol replied. Plural. 

Daryl nodded. "Gotta be."

She eyed him intensely. His black eye.  
He felt her looks, knew she knew what was underneath these clothes. She knew him. Way too good, even after all these years. 

"You're here for your brother?"

Daryl nodded, awkwardly, lips pressed together. He knew what she had heard. Of Merle. Of him. The rumours. His legal file.  
What did she think of him, going to bed with a teenager?

"Please wait over there." She instructed him, pointing her finger to the waiting area Daryl already knew. 

"A'ight. Thanks." He muttered before he turned to leave. Felt her stare in his back. Ignored it.

 

One hour later, he stepped out of the building.  
Merle was to be sent to jail.  
No way out this time again.  
Not that he was surprised.  
It was all on him now.  
His painkillers subsided.  
He wanted to go home. 

"Daryl! Wait!"  
He turned to her. Of course it was her.

"Hey."  
he eyed her with lowered head and shoved his hands in his pockets, halfway turned, not hiding that he absolutely didn't want to talk to her. 

"I... You know... " she started off unsure.  
"I just want you to know, that whatever may come, that I'll be ... you know..."

She seemed at a loss of words. 

Daryl watched her warily. Why would she be like that? But then he drew his lips in what could be the hint of a smile and nodded curtly.  
He cleared his throat. Felt like he owed her an explanation. 

"Yah know, I didn't know she was underage. Didn't know... I... I... "

He raised his hands, let them sink again. 

"It was all my fault. That's all on me. But I'm payin', ya know? It's a boy. I've seen him once...."

He stopped when he realized he'd been rambling.  
Carol smiled at him softly. She raised her hand to brush a too-long strain of hair out of his face. He didn't flinch. Took a deep breath. Closed his eyes. 

"I gotta go back to work." Carol told him, and her soft, familiar voice sent chills down his spine. He nodded, unable to lift his gaze to hers.

She left. Again.


	40. Chapter 40

Chapter 40

Daryl didn't bother to linger at home for too long. Another two painkillers and some Coke and he was done. 

Back in his truck he contemplated which story to serve to Dale. Which credible story. 

But once he arrived he couldn't help but stare. Dale's house was pretty and neat.   
The front yard displayed the efforts of a caring female hand and a white gravel walkway led to a snow white veranda. 

Daryl hated himself as he did so, but he envied him so much for all of it, his stomach cramped.   
When he was little he had always wished so bad to live in a house just like that instead of a fucked up trailer with holes in the roof.   
And with his own room.   
He cursed slightly as he realized he'd been chewing the inside of his cheek again. 

Hands shoved in his pockets, he slowly made his way to the porch.   
He sniffed. He'd be damned if his nose hadn't just catched a whiff of freshly baked cookies.   
What a fucking fairy tale. 

Daryl cleared his throat uncomfortabely before he rang the bell.   
He wondered if he was already watched by neighbors. The way he looked he hadn't been too surprised.   
He took a step back and lowered his gaze to his worn-out shoes, resisting the urge to take in even more of the carefully arranged details of the lovely home. 

Dale opened the door with a wide smile that quickly faded to a horrified expression as soon as he'd perceived Daryl's black eye and the scrabbed abraison on his cheek.

"Daryl! What in heavens happened to you?"

Daryl averted his gaze and took half a step back, ducking his head.

"Jus' had a little accident... Nothing bad..."

But he didn't get any further.

"You better get in straight. And then you tell me what happened!"

Dale ushered him in and right away to the soft cushions of his subtle patterned couch. 

"Irma!" he called for his wife,  
"Please bring over some iced tea, will ya?"

"Sure Darling! Do we have visitors? Who is it?"   
A female, friendly voice replied. 

"It's Daryl! My employee, I've told you about him!"   
Dale gave back before returning his attention to the bruised boy in front of him. 

"Tell me what happened to you before she comes. Whatever it was, I don't think the truth is good for her."   
He urged Daryl with lowered voice while he eyed him from head to toe. 

Daryl focused him with squinted eyes, a look that reminded Dale of a trapped animal with its back to the wall.

"Bar fight." 

He finally brought himself to admit. 

Technically that wasn't a lie, albeit he knew he'd do good not to disclose every detail. 

Dale hesitated, then shook his head slightly.   
Had he always suspected that there were some dark sides about Daryl's life that he tried to keep away from him, did he now feel confirmed.   
Could Daryl really be what people presumed? 

He had tried to gather some information about him when he first applied for the job, but all he had gotten were sniding remarks about Daryl's brother Merle and the Dixon family in general.   
He had refused to prejudge, but now he wasn't so sure anymore. 

"I'm so happy to meet you finally! My husband has told me so much about you!"

Irma's chirping voice suddenly filled the uncomfortable silence that had spread after Daryl's half-confession. 

"Oh my God! What happened to you?"  
All the colour fled from her face and she nearly dropped the tray with the glasses and the pitcher she had brought, as she noticed Daryl's face.

Dale quickly stepped in.

"He fell from a ladder yesterday when he tried to help his father fix some loose shingles on the roof." 

He explained, and Daryl couldn't help but wonder where he'd learned to lie without batting an eye. 

"Yeah... crashed right into an overgrown hedge. I hope I didn't scare you, Ma'am."

Daryl felt the urge to say at least something.

"Oh Darling, that's horrible! Did you hurt yourself bad? Have you seen a doctor yet?"

"Nah, can't do nothing anyways."  
Daryl replied,  
"It's just a broken rib or two. Ain't nothing bad. I've had worse."

"Oh, I see." Irma answered politely, but looked down, barely able to suppress the shock swinging in her voice. 

Daryl cursed himself for his brainless rambling and added in a weak attempt to keep up the appearance,

"That's why I prefer working in cars. Can't fall too deep."

"I see." Irma repeated herself, then quickly changed the subject and offered iced tea and cookies. 

Daryl was actually sort of hungry but didn't grab a cookie. He didn't want to confirm the bad impression he'd undoubtedly already left.   
Instead, he cleared his throat.

"You know, reason why I'm here's because... I wanted to ask..."

"Because you can't work with a broken rib?" Dale interrupted,   
"Yeah, that's what I thought."

Daryl chewed his lower lip and nodded weakly. 

"You know, Jim called in just before you showed up today." Dale continnued.

Daryl eyed him warily. He seemed somewhat angry, but, just like mostly, Daryl just didn't get it. He'd always had difficulties to read from other people's expressions. Had thought he might be kind of mentally handicaped even. 

"The babie's there. Jim won't get to work the whole upcoming week."

Daryl lowered his gaze to the carpet.   
A fucking clean carpet, indeed.   
Then he nodded slowly, again.   
He weighted his options, lifting his eyes slowly.  
"I can work. Maybe lil' slower than usual.   
But work. Maybe a fixed work instead of a fixed time?" 

 

Dale sighed deeply. He was already lost.   
On the one hand he knew only too well that he needed somebody at the garage. And on the other, Daryl's words had erased all earlier prejudices.   
He really was no Dixon, if one could say so. 

"Allright. It's settled then." 

Daryl let out a relieved whoosh of air.  
"Thank you Sir. See you on Monday.   
Ma'am."  
And immediately he almost ran outta the house. 

Dale and Irma looked at one another quietly for a while. Then Irma broke the silence.   
"Honey, I know what you told me about that Dixon boy. And I shouldn't be surprised. And after, all I'm not.   
But did he... really...?"

Dale couldn't help but chuckle. And Irma did as well.   
Both of them were laughing wholeheartedly when Dale finally brought out:  
"Yes, Darling, he just grabbed that cookie. He truly did."


	41. Chapter 41

Chapter 41

Michonne was an angel. She had already cooked a delicious meal when Daryl arrived home and was eating with Andre at the small kitchen table, in lack of other possibilities.

Daryl waited until he had been brought to bed before he filled her in to the events of the past day.

As it turned out, Michonne had already terminated her lease as Merle had planned to rent a real house for the three of them.

Well, four, that was. Daryl neither questioned the bond between his brother and him standing above each and every possible other relationship Merle would ever start, nor the fact that the decision for a new home had been made without his consent.

Michonne and him eventually agreed, that if anyone asked, they’d pretend to be a couple, just as Merle had told them.

It could work, Daryl thought.

Monday was bad but less than expected for Daryl.  
Dale helped him lift tyres and rims and the rest of the work he was practically able to do himself.  
It took him over ten hours to do still less work than he usually accomplished in less than eight, but Dale appreciated his efforts and didn't only pay him his regular money but also handed him a paper bag with best wishes from his wife.   
Smiling, he watched him through the window, devouring the cookies right in front of the building as soon as he felt unwatched.  
Eventually he was a good boy, just born in the wrong place, he thought once again.

Daryl had already called in sick at the supermarket, completely aware of the fact that this had to be the only time unless he wanted to take the risk to have his plans thrown.

But after all, things kept going.  
Work at the garage was hard but Daryl did recover quickly.   
Work at the supermarket was painful, but Daryl managed to hide his aches and bruises for the most part, and when he couldn't, his boss thankfully accepted "nothing" for a reasonable answer. 

Just like that, some weeks went.

He watched Andre when Michonne went to visit Merle in detention prior to his trial.  
He watched Andre when she had to work.  
She brought him to kindergarten and he picked him back up. 

Both of them watched Merle, undoubtedly high on drugs, in his ill fitting suit, telling the judge to fuck off.   
Michonne closed her eyes as if she could shut out reality.  
If they hadn’t known him for real, they’d drawn the exact same conclusion the judge did.  
And therefore most likely made the very same decisions.  
Two long ass years. No chance for probation.   
He wanted it that way. It seemed he'd finally given up.  
What a fucker he could be.

He had exited the courtroom without looking back.  
He’d left. Again.

But this time, someone stayed.   
Daryl didn’t know if therefore or in spite, but he didn’t care.

There was a person that cared for him. And a second person he could care for in return.  
And none of them ever pushed him into something nor even urged him to talk when he simply didn’t want to.

Daryl went working, kept his appointments with his probation officer, and secretly went hunting when neither Michonne nor Andre were around, as Michonne had pleased him to do so to keep Andre from crying -he had developed a vegetarian phase recently that kept Michonne from eating meat; at least as long as he was awake.  
She dearly hoped it to be over soon and Daryl even made fun of her for it sometimes. 

Even the neighbors had become acquainted to the new couple.   
Dixons were known to be crazy, so why not freakin' crazy.  
At least they had something to chat about. 

By the time the next 18th rolled around, Daryl's bruises were barely visible anymore.   
Only the cut just above his prominent cheekbone was still to be seen, but only if one took a close look. 

Daryl had cancelled the registration of Merle's bike due to finacial aspects, as Michonne did contribute to their expenses and even had taken an additional part-time-job at the shop of a gas station, but still they needed to count every penny. He needed her to keep his finances going.  
And for some other reason he didn't dare to name. 

The weather was hot and Daryl had chosen to wear a flanell shirt with ripped-off sleeves at first, then changed his mind and opted for one of Merle's muscleshirts. Still unsure, he stood in the middle of his room when Michonne knocked on the frame of the already open door. 

"So you like her, huh?" She asked plainly.

Daryl waved off.  
"Nah... It's just... If he asks about me some day.   
I don't want them to tell 'im his father didn't even own one good clean shirt."

Michonne nodded understandingly.

"But you like her, too?"

Daryl scoffed,  
"How can I like her? I don't even know her! Can't even tell what's her eyes' coulour!  
Don't know both of them."

And he turned to face Michonne angrily, as if his words could change a thing, as if they could mitigate the pain clenching his chest.

She frowned at him, let the words sink it seemed, before she replied calmly.

"But don't forget, that whatever you wear, they'll be able to tell him you paid. That you took responsibility.   
I think it's good enough to just be yourself, Daryl. Don't let anybody tell you otherwise."

Daryl nodded awkwardly. But finally he took off Merle's shirt, which was too big anyway, to change back to his flanell. 

\------------------------------

He parks his old truck down at the side of the road and slowly makes his way up the driveway to the Clearwater's estate.  
Even from the distance he can spot Chrissie sitting on the veranda.   
He stops when he is close enough for her to notice.

She doesn't move, just stares at him.

He squints his eyes, looking back and forth, before he finally continnues his way, hands shoved in his pockets, determined to have this done and leave again the quickest possible way.

But he has only just taken the first step on the porch when Chrissie emerges from her seat and he perceives the little bundle she is holding and that has been concealed by the railing up to this point. 

He flinches and takes a step back, unable to say a word.   
It is Chrissie to break the silence and have him tear his eyes from the little boy wrapped in her arms. 

"Nobody's here."

Daryl eyes her vacantly, and for a moment Chrissie isn't sure if he got what she said. 

"Nobody?"  
He finally brings out, with the same deep and husky voice that had her shiver eons ago.

She shakes her head no.  
"My mother went shopping with Chris and my father was called to work surprisingly.   
Charlie's at his girlfriend's."

Daryl scoffs at the thought of how Charlie's girlfriend would probably look like.

"They better stay where they are, then. Would pro'lly kill me, otherwise."

Now she smiles.   
A mega-watt smile, and he wonders why he can't remember.   
But he never made her smile before, he recalls.   
Cry for sure, and hard, but sure as hell never smile. 

"So you're here to take responsibility, too, I guess?"  
She asks him, and he can tell she's reffering to that unholy phonecall.

"Hmm"   
he more grunts than says and lifts his hand to bite his thumbnail.

"Why don't you take a seat?"   
Chrissie suggests.

And he does.


	42. Chapter 42

Chapter 42

Chrissie settles back down to her wooden armchair. 

Daryl slowly gets closer and after yet another unsure glance back and forth, he sits down to the edge of a stool next to her.   
She asks him if he wants to take a look and he faces her questionly before he nods.

As she pushes aside the blue and grey tartan blanked that is hiding Dylan's face, he bends forward, propping his elbows to his thighs. 

The baby looks at him with big, dark-blue eyes. 

"He's beautiful, don't you think?"   
Chrissie asks him. 

"He takes after you."   
Daryl replies, more to say anything than like he means it.   
In fact, he is so entranced that he is surprised to bring out any word at all. 

He raises his hand once again to bite his thumbnail.

"Your family freak out 'bout that last name thing?"  
Daryl asks muffled, thumb still in his mouth.

"Sure they did. They'll get over it. All of them already fell in love with him."  
Chrissie gives back.   
"But anyway, what did your own parents say about this all?"

She wants to continnue, ask how they feel about having a grandkid they can't see. If they've seen the pictures yet, but Daryl interrupts her with a snort.   
Within the split of a second he seems to have changed from the sweet, vulnerable boy back to that closed-off redneck with the same angry eyes that made her shiver ever since she told him she was pregnant with his kid. 

"Can't see how that's any of ya business."  
Daryl rants and his whole body seems to tense up.  
Chrissie's eyes widen and she faces him warily, then sort of angry.

"And I can't see how I can know anything about you unless you tell me."  
She replies, now herself with squinted eyes as well. 

His eyes meet hers. He isn't used to be contradicted. 

"Momma's dead, old man only comes over when money runs low. Not what you want to have 'round 'ya kid anyhow. Won't bring sweets or nothin'. No more to be told."

"Oh."  
She mouths, instantly sorry for asking at all.   
But she has, unknowingly, pushed just the right buttons.

Daryl waves off and reaches for his wallet,   
a frayed walled that is duct-taped at the edges to keep it from falling to pieces.  
He pulls out the photo Merle has put in his duffle bag the day he was imprisoned.

"Here. That's mah Momma."   
He says as he hands it to her.

"She had black hair, too?" Chrissie asks softly.

"Mmmh."

She smiles at him, yet with raised eyebrows, as she fully gets what he tries to say with that one gesture.

"So. Then Dixon is the perfect name for him. Your momma would've been proud to be a grandmother for sure!"

Daryl nods, but then shakes his head slightly.  
"Nah. Wasn't her name though. Don't even know if they were legally married at all."

"How come you don't know that?"  
Chrissie questions with a frown.

By the look in his face, she can tell his insecurity.  
But this time, it's sort of sweet.

"Didn't never talk too much, old man and I. Guess the only reason he felt sorry for her bein' gone was he had no one left to fight anymore. Found a letter envelope once, addressed to Ms Cynthia Roberts. But pro'lly don't have nothing to say."

And he looks her deep in the eyes. Vulnerable. But this time, although he just told her more than most people know about him at all, he doesn't feel ashamed.   
It is what it is. 

"She was a Grace Kelly, hm?"  
Chrissie states, but before Daryl gets to ask what that is supposed to mean they're interrupted. 

"Cynthia Roberts?"

Both of them jump at the sudden sound of a male voice coming from behind, causing Dylan to whimper. 

The man steps up to them. He's tall and muscular despite his advanced age and his tone doesn't hide his disgust.

Chrissie is the first to regain her language.  
"Uncle Jason! I didn't even know you were here!"

"I was working with your father on some blueprints until he was called to the office. But looks like I didn't know about everybody here as well."  
He gives back, eyeing Daryl, who has rosen from his seat in the meanwhile, intensely.

"Uncle Jason, this is Daryl Dixon."   
And shyly she adds   
"He is Dylan's father. He just came to bring the child support money."

Neither of the men makes an offer to shake hands.

"So I see he's about to leave anyway. Never hold up travellers, right?"  
Jason Greene asks, calm and for some reason sort of insecure. 

"No."   
Daryl brings out huskyly.  
He nods to both of them, then leaves without looking back. 

Chrissie watches him stomp down the driveway, then cautiously catches the gaze of her oldest uncle, her mother's brother, again.

"Please don't tell anybody, will you? I don't want to cause him even more trouble. Please?"

But instead of an answer, her uncle only shakes his head in confusion.

"Cynthia Roberts? Is that his mother's name?"

Chrissie isn't sure she gets what he's saying.  
"Uhm... probably. Yes. Did you know her? He just told me she died a long time ago."

Jason Greene rubs his face with his palms.

"I've heard about it."  
He tells her before he returns back to the house, leaving Chrissie confused.   
He's talking in riddles she thinks to herself.   
But she's courious as well.   
How could her uncle know Daryl's mother?   
She knows Jason has attended College in Atlanta back in the day, then came back to work at a competitor of her father's first, before joining his firm where he has worked ever since. 

Cynthia Roberts... maybe she has attended College, too? How old would she be today? Daryl was 26 now, she knows it from the file and it's on Dylan birth certificate as well.   
Still, she doesn't know anything about Daryl's mother, apart from her name.   
But if there's anything she has right now, it's time.   
Time to investigate.


	43. Chapter 43

Chapter 43

Back in his truck, Daryl breathed deeply.  
Nothing but fucking trouble.

He couldn’t even tell what pissed him off the most.

Torturing himself by giving in to the foolish and therefore senseless urge to see that kid, letting down his guard in front of that stuck-up rich girl or being stupid enough to have himself caught by her uncle while doing so?

Yeah great. Best Dixon-Manner.

He let out a whoosh of air before he dug his pockets for his smokes.

After he took the first, calming drag, he tried to get hold of what irritated him about this whole situation.

Then he got it. The man seemed familiar to him, It was like he’d seen him before. But when and where?  
And what was his last name? Jason what? Clearwater like Chrissie’s last name? Or was he a maternal uncle?  
Why did he ask for his mother’s name?  
And, above all: what WAS his mother’s name? Was her name Roberts, anyway?

The only person he could ask was Merle. But that old bastard wasn’t here.

Daryl came to the conclusion that despite the fact that he’s had his fair share of people for a month or so in advance, it was still a sunny Saturday. He decided to go hunting.

His equipment was stored in the backseat of his truck, just as always. Next to the sleeping bag he has tossed there the last time he was so broke, he had sincerely contemplated to run, and far.  
Eventually, he never did.

Besides, the cardboard box containing his important things was always at home. Just to make sure he wouldn’t do nothing unconsidered.

It contained some old books in whose he used to dream when he was a child.   
When he still attended school and wanted to be a writer.   
When he knew little about the differences between people.  
His tin soldiers, one of the few things he had to play with.  
Some more memories and very few pictures. Of Merle and him.   
Taken at fucked up parties in fucked up houses.

His most recent addition were the pictures and the papers relating to the trial and the outcome. Daryl avoided calling the baby any other than “the outcome”, even towards himself. First of all, towards himself.  
Dylan was the outcome. The nonetheless fascinating outcome, but yet, the costly outcome. The unwanted outcome.   
No, he scolded himself. Chrissie wanted him. Loved him. She was a good mother for sure. Not like him. He’d never make a good parent.

He stopped staring at his dashboard and rubbed his face with his palms as if he could erase the thoughst swirling in his head.

Michonne and Andre needed him. Nobody ever needed him before.  
He couln’t just leave. At least not without the box at home.

Then it hit him like a brick.   
Said box contained his mother’s death certificate. And therefore her last name and her marital state.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

In the meanwhile Chrissie, who had remained sitting on the porch for a while to nurse Dylan, had decided to go inside and see what could help her mother in the kitchen with. 

She didn’t have too much to do these days as her parents had agreed to let her take a break from school for a year and then graduate regularly. And, to be honest, she enjoyed every single day alone with her son.   
He was the most fascinating thing she had ever seen and she loved him dearly.   
Had she been anxious at first for being stigmatized, not only for having a baby at her young age, but also being unmarried, had she soon realized that she simply wasn’t as much of a people person as she had previously estimated. She didn’t care anymore.   
It was her, Dylan, Samantha –at least when she was around- and the rest of her family.

She was absolutely aware of the fact that she had to be grateful to be born into wealthy family, but on the other hand, she surely would have decided against a baby at that very point if she hadn’t.

She placed Dylan in his carrier on the kitchen table and kissed him on the forehead.   
She thanked God silently for being able to keep him. Never would she want to experience what a girl would feel that had to go and get an abortion or, maybe even worse, give a newborn up for adoption.

She had her very own suspicions that Samantha once had had an abortion, but she wouldn’t talk about it. She had shed some tears while holding Dylan for the first time, but when Chrissie asked her about it, she tried to weaken it by explaining how she never wanted children and would not make a good mother anyhow.

Chrissie started to peel some potatoes and cut them in pieces. Her thoughts wandered back to Daryl. There was something really attractive about him. If he had only come from a different surrounding and under different circumstances.  
She wondered if he would make a good father. He surely admired their baby. Still, she could perceive the rejection he held towards him. Which was no wonder, considering the effects Dylans being on earth had had on him so far.

But what did her uncle know about Daryl’s mother?  
Maybe he was wrong? Most likely he was wrong. There was no way Jason Greene could be acquainted to somebody like Cynthia Dixon. Or Cynthia Roberts. Two names and the fact that she was dead. What could she make of that?

Deep in thought, Chrissie nearly jumped when Charlie and her mother entered the kitchen.

“Hey Darlin, how have my babies been in the meanwhile?” 

her mother greeted her with a smile.

“Thank you Mom, we’ve been great!”

Chrissie replied.

She watched her brother step up to his nephew and smile at him halt-heartedly.   
Chrissie knew Charlie couldn’t get over his disapproval and why.   
Her brother and her had always shared a real close bond until maybe two years ago, when Charlie didn’t want to tell her about his girlfriends no more and so Chrissie had stopped to tell her about her little adventures as well.

Speaking of adventures, it never had been anything beyond second base for the most time.

She had hit third base only about three months or so previously to her meetup with Daryl and it happened at the bedroom of a dingy house where she had went to a party with Samantha, and fortunately it had been with a really nice boy.  
She was boozed enough to let it happen and even tried her first-ever blowjob.   
And according to the boy she had done a real good job.   
He had tried to keep in contact with her later on, but it was her unwritten law to never let that happen. What happened in Vegas, stayed in Vegas. Or on the other side of town, in that case.

But it hadn’t been enough for her. She was eager to get more. Get it all. She was determined to have her first time on the next occasion. And as it had turned out, that very occasion was named Daryl Dixon.

She sighed. What had her brother done in the meanwhile? When had his first time happened? And with whom? He never brought his girlfriends home. Maybe that was part of his displeasure as well. Charlie had always had a sense for the family’s reputation. Maybe he had done just the same thing as her. Gone with partners that didn’t know who he was and keep it at that.

Still, she knew, he had followed her on occasion, and also on that very night at the bonfire.  
A thought crossed her mind.

“Hey Charlie, would you mind to have a little talk outside? Mom, could you watch Dylan for a moment, please?”

Sharon eyed her children warily but eventually agreed. In a way, she was even grateful that the two of them tried to get along again. She knew Charlie hated the Dixon-Family from the botton of his heart, most likely as they represented everything you try and keep your girls away from. A low educational level combined with crime, drug use and diseases.  
She had seen Merle Dixon herself. She didn’t dare to think about what he was capable of when provoked. Why in heavens would her sweet, smart girl go with a man like that? Even if his younger brother was only half his caliber it was still worse than anything she had ever thought of.  
Up to now, she had managed to keep Dylan’s father a secret. Nobody knew about his last name and she was determined to have it changed as soon as possible. Her grandson would get only the best she could provide, and that included a good, upright name.

“What’s up?” Charlie asked his little sister warily as soon as they had entered the hallway. He made no attempt to hide his mistrust.

Chrissie still smiled at him softly. 

“Oh please, don’t be like that, will ya? I think we should talk. Please? Pretty, pretty please? I would so much love to have my brother back. Dylan’s uncle? Huh?”

Upon hearing Dylan’s name, Charlie scoffed. This topic wasn’t to his liking. Not at all. That kid had damaged his sister’s immaculate reputation. And drawn the public attention to the family; one thing that Charlie tried to avoid deliberately.   
Sonner or later he had to tell her just that. He wanted her to stop believing everything would turn out fine.

“Let’s go to the livingroom, okay? You know our mother is just as curious as every other woman on the planet, right?”

Chrissie nodded, and so she followed him suit to the very room that friggin’ Dixon-Story had started not even one year ago.

“Don’t you like me anymore?” 

Chrissie started off as soon as they had entered the room. She just couldn’t do any different. She was only eighteen and her bigger brother one of the most beloved persons in her entire life. 

“Please, don’t be like that.” 

She begged him once more.

“Be like what?” 

Charlie grunted, but of course he knew what she was talking about. 

“I can’t look at him. It’s his kid. I tried to protect you but I couldn’t. That’s on me. I can’t stand this.”

He told her.  
Chrissie sighed deeply. 

“I suspected alike” 

she had to admit. 

“But see, everything is fine or will be. I love to be a mother. God has his ways. I was not harmed in any way…”

But that had Charlie over the edge. 

“Excuse me WHAT? That hick gave you a baby! You gave in to a goddamn Redneck! He took your… “ 

He swallowed hard, didn’t dare to name it. 

“He took your pride!” 

He finally choked out.  
Chrissie frowned at him, but he wasn’t done just as quick. 

“I mean.. .just look at you now. People are talking. And they don’t even know his father’s name. Not yet. They will find out. Just think of it! Your reputation. Our family’s reputation. And there you go asking me to be the uncle to that little redneck bastard?”

Chrissie faced her brother in utter disbelief. She knew how much her brother held up that whole reputation thing. But that truly wasn’t what she had expected.

“Is that what you think of me? Of my son? How dare you!”

She spat out before turning on her heel and storming off, for her brother should not perceive the tears pooling in her eyes.

She practically ran back to the kitchen where she couldn’t hold her tears back any longer.

“Baby… what happened?”

Sharon asked her concerned. But Chrissie only picked up Dylan with his carrier and turned to leave. 

“Imma go drivin’. Can’t stand that fucked up family no more.” 

She ranted while exiting the room.  
Sharon frowned. What in heavens had occurred between her children? She dried her hands on her apron and went after her. She wouldn’t let her drive in that state of mood. Let alone with her baby in the passenger seat.

“Christine! You get back in here and quick!” 

She shouted after only daughter. Of course, she got no reply. And eventually she was too late. Within record time Chrissie seemed to have Dylan fixed in the car and she heard the eight cylinder engine of her husband’s RAM being started and the gravel crunch underneath the big tyres.

God beware she had an accident now.  
Sharon returned to the house confused.  
Where was Charlie?

“Charles William Clearwater! Get your sorry ass to the kitchen! NOW!” 

Sharon yelled, completely forgetting about any manners she usually practiced relentlessly. 

But her son as well, seemed to have vanished from the earth’s surface.


	44. Chapter 44

Chapter 44

When Dayl arrived home his anger had barely abated. What if he better didn’t look for that damn paper? What if, as it was in every matter regarding that Clearwater-Family, it resulted in only more problems?

He had to stop that shit. Immediately. He would leave, a small apartment somewhere near one of his working places would do.   
Even if that meant he had to leave Michonne and André. Was probably better for them anyway. That kid had enough problems of his own already.   
And even if he didn’t want this, he had to do it eventually. To keep the Clearwater’s eye off them. They might get kicked out just for him being himself at all times. That whole trailerpark belonged to “Clearwater Living”. He knew it from the rental contract. They had enough to use against him and they knew that he knew it just as well.   
The baby was only one month old by now, and yet he had trouble to do everything right and try and stay invisible.

Daryl killed the engine and exited the truck when he first perceived the sound of a loud, healthy engine that sure as hell didn’t belong to his neighborhood. Still, he was sure it didn’t mean any trouble, now that Merle wasn’t around. Neither could it be a stolen vehicle that had the cops on his heels nor belong to some dealer Merle still owed money or worse. 

Daryl let his gaze wander over to the shabby trailer. Now bathed in bright sunlight it looked even worse than he remembered. On the one hand he always tried to maintain it as good as possible to keep it intact and him from having to call the landlord, or his company, but on the other he had to fear them getting to the idea to renovate it and with that, raise the lease anyway. 

How much he had always wished to have a home of his own, let alone a wife and some kids. Had he been barely able to afford alike before, was it now far outta reach. 

He was torn off his thoughts when André came running round the corner. He must have been playing in the sandbox Daryl had put up the other week on the backside of the trailer.   
The backside was safer, he had decided. It kept André as well from the direct sunlight as from a probable visit of his father. You could never be careful enough. Up side was also, Daryl could sit in front of the trailer smoking and drinking beer without André seeing him.   
He knew they boy had already seen much worse, but you gotta start somewhere, right?

He swooped him off the ground like he always did when he came home. He had become somewhat accustomed to that boy he had to admit. 

“Hey Buddy, how’s ya doing?” he asked the little boy. 

“Thank you very much, I’m fine!” he got his reply. 

Michonne must have practiced manners with him again. Daryl always tried to catch an ear when she did. There was so much he didn’t know himself and he often wondered how   
much more educated than himself she really was. 

Just as he had sat André on his hip the sound of the car had gotten too close to ignore, then stopped right behind him.  
He turned to take a look at what he already dreadfully suspected. Well, some of it. 

Chrissie sat in the cabin of that fucking red RAM and damn close looked like crying.   
What the hell had he done wrong again? Could this girl ever stop crying when it came to him? However, what did he expect? He had ruined her life. And was damn close to doing the same to her son’s. 

“Freak off!” He hissed at her sight, fully aware of the little one on his arm. 

He placed André back to the ground and told him to go back to his Momma before he quickly approached the truck and opened the door angrily.   
Chrissie was sobbing and Dylan was wailing was well. 

Yeah great, the two things on earth he could handle the best, all packed into one truck, spiced up with tears. 

“Fuck! S’all ya can do crying o’what?!” He belted at her. “Why ya stalking me? Can’t get enough of torturing me, girl? Huh?”

“I… I’ve got nowhere else to go.” Chrissie brought out under tears. 

Before Daryl was able to reply something unconsidered, Michonne chimed in. She had a very curious André on her hip and knew it made no sense to draw any public attention to them. 

“So I think we all better go inside, don’t you? Have some coffee and soothe the baby?” She suggested. 

Quite unsure, Chrissie glanced at Daryl. But he nodded curtly and turned to enter the house. André followed suit and, remembering what manners meant when you had guests, started to tidy up the livingroom floor from his building bricks. Daryl had found a piece of grey carpet on the side of the street some weeks before so André wouldn’t have to play on the old stained floor anymore. Plus, the whole room was lit up by it and looked much more like home. 

He perceived the two women’s voices getting closer and rubbed his neck, unsure of what to make of the situation. They shouldn’t be here, he knew. And that big red exclamation mark on wheels in front of the door wouldn’t contribute in letting their visit remain unnoticed. It was only a matter of time until the next male Clearwater would get at him. 

He remained standing in the middle of the livingroom when the Michonne, Chrissie and the baby entered the house, hands on his hips. 

“You know what, you gotta get outta here again and quick.” He started, but Michonne instantly interrupted him

“She will. But first of all, your son needs a fresh diaper and some meal. It’s the least we can do for him and her.”

“And why the fuck’s that’s any of my business, huh?” Daryl snarled. “Think you’ve gotten me enough problems already, haven’t ya?”

Before either of the ladies could answer, a little voice corrected him.   
“You don’t need to say bad words, Dada!” André pointed out and instantly had all eyes on him. 

In fact, Dada was only the doubling of first syllable of Daryl’s name, but eventually every one of them knew how close it sounded to Daddy.   
Indeed, Daryl enjoyed the people’s looks whenever André called him like that, although his complexion made it impossible to imply he was really his. 

“No, you’re right, Sweety.” Michonne broke the uncomfortable silence following that explanation.  
“Daryl didn’t mean it, did he?” she asked dreadfully, shooting him a look that could kill any other than a Dixon. 

“No.” Daryl choked out huskily, keeping his temper only in favor of the little boy. 

Michonne breathed deeply, thankfully. “Now let’s see if we can adjust one of André’s diapers to help out until you’re back home, okay? I’ll be right back!”  
And she turned to her, formerly hers and Merle’s, room to get the requested, wisely taking André with her. 

“Why ya here?” Daryl asked Chrissie outright, not even waiting until the door had completely closed. 

Chrissie sighed. “I had an argument with my brother. He said Dylan was a mistake and you’re a no good redneck. Should’ve kept my legs together and stuff.”

“Can’t see any wrong in that.” Daryl snorted. “Should’ve gotten married first, gotten a good man that fits in the family. A father for your children. That’s not me.”

“So you never wanted children?” Chrissie wondered. 

“No.” Daryl lied. 

“So. I will keep him off of you for the most part. I promise. But right now, you have to hold him, I need to go to the bathroom.” Chrissie cracked him a smile. She got a feeling of how easy it probably was to hit him just on the right spot.   
Either way, the baby was his and she could tell he was longing for him. 

Before Daryl could even protest, he had the still whimpering baby in his arms and Chrissie was off. 

He wondered how she knew where the bathroom was located, but then he remembered. For the same reason why he was standing here, holding that tiny bundle.   
Jesus Christ. He looked down at the baby. His son. For the first time ever he held his son in his arms. And probably for the last time, too.   
How much did he want to tell him he loved him, tell him about how they were going to hunt or fishing once he was older. Truth was, he wouldn’t even be able to feed him properly and have him the upbringing he deserved, even if he had gotten the chance. 

Dylan had stopped wailing in the meanwhile and looked up to his daddy with his big, blue eyes.   
Daryl’s heart was about to melt. He tried hard to soak up that moment to his memory, the surprising weight a one-month-old baby obviously had. The shiny soft strains of black hair. The protruding upper lip that made him look like a little doll. 

“You’re one little asskicker, huh? Keep your momma busy, huh?” he cooed the best his husky voice would let him. And he cradled the tiny bundle, completely and utterly amazed, just like any other father on God's green Earth, without even knowing it. 

He had yet to stop smiling when he looked up again, meeting Chrissies gaze who had just returned to the livingroom. A little behind her Michonne stood, holding a diaper and some wipes. 

“I’m gonna keep that image forever, you know?” Chrissie told him softly before she stretched her arms and took the baby back. Daryl tried not to, but couldn’t help to flinch a little as Chrissies arm touched his own while doing so. 

Just that moment, they all jumped as somebody heavily knocked on the door. 

Chrissie instinctively took a step back, holding the baby closer. 

“Who’s there?” Daryl belted, clearly sharper than he felt. 

“Police! Open the door or we will breach it!”

At any other occasion Daryl would have wondered if the cheap door gave the impression to withstand any other than breaching, but in that very case he decided to obey and nothing else. 

“I’m here! And we have children here! I’m coming!” he shouted while gesturing the women to step aback to the rear side of the trailer. 

Being fully aware that any delay could change the outcome for the worst, Daryl quickly opened the door and instantly liftet his hands over his head, but to no avail. 

The last thing he witnessed was a rifle stock about to hit his head, the next the grey carpet he was lying on and the vain attempt of his eyes to get a clear view of it.   
He groaned in agony as at the very same moment the feeling in his body returned. 

His arms were turned backwards and his hands were cuffed. He tried but couldn’t lift his head enough to see if the women were alright. Where was the baby? Where was André?  
He was pulled up to his feet but couldn’t spot the person doing so. 

Like through cotton, he heard a woman yell no. 

His eye burned, blood ran into it. He closed his eyes and felt his legs give in. 

A man shouted at him to get up. He felt that same fucking carpet at his knees. He tried to stand, felt the man’s hand in his hair, pulling hard, the pain searing through his body yet again. 

Somehow Daryl eventually managed to stand and instantly was pushed outside. There were several people but Daryl couldn’t identify their faces. Were they cops? Neighbors? Why were they even here?

Then, their voices became clearer. Daryl could distinguish Chrissies voice from the others.   
She was screaming on the top of her lungs at somebody.   
Where was Dylan? Had they taken him from her?

With sheer willpower, he finally managed to lift his head.   
Deputy Walsh, Deputy Grimes as well as two other policemen, William Clearwater, Charlie Clearwater and, for some reason, even Chrissies uncle Jason he met earlier that day. 

Charlie was holding Dylan. 

“He hasn’t done anything wrong!” he heard Chrissie yell. 

“Excuse me, what? Y’all shut up now!” – that was Rick Grimes speaking. 

Everybody fell silent and the grip in his hair loosened, so Daryl fell back to the ground but kept his head up.   
Still he just didn’t get what this fuck was all about. He tried to wipe his eye on his shoulder but his hands were tied too tight, so it stayed at the attempt. He perceived Chrissie’s uncle staring at him. Fuck you, he thought to himself and spat on the ground. If anything, pity from this man wasn’t nothing he begged for. 

“Mister Clearwater,” Deputy Grimes finally addressed Chrissies father, “will you please have the decency to explain why your son informed us about an alleged abduction or kidnapping?”

Will Clearwater cleared his throat before replying.   
“My son here received a call from his sister’s cellphone. The connection was quite bad but he heard his nephew cry. He was utterly worried so I had the phone company track her down. And as it turned out, she was located here. So we put two and two together.”

“Are you FUCKING kiddin’ me?” Daryl finally was able to croak out hoarsely. “And now what? Arrest me for just being near them? Go fuck you!” he belted, addressing Chrissie, and to be honest, her entire family, present or not. 

By this point he was angry enough to manage to get up from the ground. Now he stood there, swaying unsteadily, just about to collapse right then and there. 

“Get that fucking cuffs off me!” he ordered, and much to his surprise, Officer Grimes did what he was told. 

Still nobody spoke a word, everybody was in shock. Only Daryl knew exactly what was happening. 

“Ya know what? You won!” he yelled at the Clearwaters. “I had no chance in the first place, huh? I was in the wrong place at the fucking time, so be it! Have me arrested for never paying again one single dime, I’m done with that shit!”

And angrily, he wiped the blood dripping from his eyebrow and tried to stumble back to the crappy trailer he called home. He hadn’t been surprised if he was shot right then and there. Another accident, so what?

But he hadn’t taken Will Clearwater into account.   
“So, then be it.” He hollered. “Arrest him for not paying child support.”

“No you don’t” another voice spoke up. Chrissie. All eyes were on her as she continued.   
“He paid the current month. And tomorrow I will go and have them restraints set aside.”

Daryl only scoffed. He knew the money was still in the inner pocket of his vest. He had forgotten it when he stormed off the house that afternoon. 

“T’hell with all’ya” he snarled, then spat out to the ground once again and stubled back inside his home, like a wounded deer, looking for shelter.


End file.
